We returned from a week away to see the yard bursting with daffadils and hyacinths and the hints of green buds on trees. Every flower appears at its anointed time.
The Star Magnolia reveals its blossoms one by one until the tree is covered in a full white gown. (next week).
Earth’s annual renewal is colorful and inspiring. Wordsworth’s poem reminds however, we still have much to do in our human endeavors versus nature’s spontaneous transformation.
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 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?
