LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING.

    I es,

    e reclined,

    In t s mood s

    Bring sad ts to the mind.

    to ure link

    t through me ran;

    And muc grievd my  to think

    man has made of man.

    tufts, in t s bower,

    traild its hes;

    And tis my fait every ?ower

    Enjoys t breathes.

    the birds around me hoppd and playd:

    ts I cannot measure,

    But t motion whey made,

    It seemd a thrill of pleasure.

    t their fan,

    to catche breezy air;

    And I must think, do all I can,

    t there.

    If I ts may not prevent,

    If suche plan,

    reason to lament

    man has made of man?