LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING.

I heard a thousand blended notes,

While in a grove I sate reclined,

In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts

Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did nature link

The human soul that through me ran;

And much it grievd my heart to think

What man has made of man.

Through primrose-tufts, in that sweet bower,

The periwinkle traild its wreathes;

And tis my faith that every ?ower

Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hoppd and playd:

Their thoughts I cannot measure,

But the least motion which they made,

It seemd a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,

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