1I heard a thousand blended notes,
2While in a grove I sate reclined,
3In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
4Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
5To her fair works did Nature link
6The human soul that through me ran;
7And much it grieved my heart to think
8What man has made of man.
9Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
10The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
11And ’tis my faith that every flower
12Enjoys the air it breathes.
13The birds around me hopped and played,
14Their thoughts I cannot measure:—
15But the least motion which they made
16It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
17The budding twigs spread out their fan,
18To catch the breezy air;
19And I must think, do all I can,
20That there was pleasure there.
21If this belief from heaven be sent,
22If such be Nature’s holy plan,
23Have I not reason to lament
24What man has made of man?
1I heard a thousand blended notes,
2While in a grove I sate reclined,
3In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
4Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
5To her fair works did Nature link
6The human soul that through me ran;
7And much it grieved my heart to think
8What man has made of man.
9Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
10The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
11And ’tis my faith that every flower
12Enjoys the air it breathes.
13The birds around me hopped and played,
14Their thoughts I cannot measure:—
15But the least motion which they made
16It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
17The budding twigs spread out their fan,
18To catch the breezy air;
19And I must think, do all I can,
20That there was pleasure there.
21If this belief from heaven be sent,
22If such be Nature’s holy plan,
23Have I not reason to lament
24What man has made of man?
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 grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.
Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.
The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:—
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.
The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.
If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?
Select any word below to get its definition in the context of the poem. The words are listed in the order in which they appear in the poem.
Wordsworth at 250 — Read about a recent celebration of Wordsworth's 250th birthday. He's still one of the world's best-known and best-loved poets in the world!
A Short Film Based on the Poem — Watch a recent short film interpretation of the poem (and hear it read in a thick Scottish accent).
Wordsworth's Life and Work — Read a short biography of Wordsworth, and find links to more of his poems.
Lyrical Ballads — Check out the famous collection in which this poem first appeared.
Wordsworth's Creative Process — Watch a short reenactment of Wordsworth writing one of his most famous poems—including some background on his collaboration with his sister Dorothy, from whose journals he took a lot of his images.