“Written in Early Spring” by William Wordsworth (1770–1850)

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  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 trail’d its wreaths;  And ’tis my faith that every flower  Enjoys the air it breathes.  The birds around me hopp’d and play’d,  Their thoughts I cannot measure,—  But the least motion which they made  It seem’d 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?

Finished Reading: Samuel Johnson

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Finished reading Samuel Johnson’s insulting carefully crafted letter to Lord Chesterfield in 1755. Commonly called “literature's ‘declaration of independence’” Johnson quietly rails his patron for his help that came seven years too late. Johnson published his Dictionary without Chesterfield, paving the way for writers to publish without patronage. Chesterfield prized the letter. The most caustic line of the letter is: “The shepherd in Virgil grew at last acquainted with Love, and found him a native of the rocks.” Why was it so insulting? It should have remained in Latin. 

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