1. LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING.
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I heard a thousand blended notes,
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While in a grove I sate reclined,
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In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
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Bring sad thoughts to the mind.
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To her fair works did nature link
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The human soul that through me ran;
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And much it griev'd my heart to think
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What man has made of man.
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Through primrose-tufts, in that sweet bower,
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The periwinkle trail'd its wreathes;
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And 'tis my faith that every flower
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Enjoys the air it breathes.
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The birds around me hopp'd and play'd:
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Their thoughts I cannot measure,
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But the least motion which they made,
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It seem'd a thrill of pleasure.
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The budding twigs spread out their fan,
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To catch the breezy air;
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And I must think, do all I can,
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That there was pleasure there.
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If I these thoughts may not prevent,
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If such be of my creed the plan,
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Have I not reason to lament
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