In this installment Angie Hogan reads "Lines Written in Early Spring" by William Wordsworth. Hogan's poems have appeared in The Antioch Review, Bellingham Review, Ploughshares, Third Coast, The Virginia Quarterly Review, Willow Springs, and elsewhere. Originally from a small town in East Tennessee, she currently lives near Charlottesville and works at the University of Virginia Press.
William Wordsworth, "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 sweet 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.
From heaven if this belief be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?