PsychoanalysisTODAY

Lines Written in Spring

by William Wordsworth

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
Enjoy the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played:
Their thoughts I cannot measure,
But the lest 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.

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?
  ____________________________________________________

May 15-17 2014 -  Florence, Italy 



Psychoanalysis and Art

Sixth International Symposium

Art/Object: The Artist, the Object,

the Patron, and the Audience

Click here for further information about this conference!