Day Fifty -- The Color Purple.

Copyright 2010.  Petunia on my front porch.

*I heard a thousand blended notes,

while in the grove I sat 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 man 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 as made of man?*

-- William Wadsworth  --