Nature’s Temple

                                         I.
There ls no holier temple, nor a spot
     Where a diviner light on man is shed, 
     Than some gray rock with trees o'ercanopied, 
In the deep forest, where the voice comes not 
Of human discord; there, beyond the lot 
     Of the unthoughtful, is the spirit fed 
     That truly hungereth after heavenly bread;
The song of insects, and the many tones 
     Of voiceful nature, wandering thro' the air, 
     Sink in the soul and wake reflection there, 
Till on high thoughts the spirit climbs and owns 
Companionship with angels; and the moans 
     Of the soft breeze, and all things good or fair, 
Bring to the soul much food for musings high and rare.

                                         II.
The sunshine, pouring over all the wood 
     A flood of living glory from above, 
     Seems the meet symbol of enlivening Love;
And the sweet carols of the feathered brood
Echo the spirit's song of gratitude;
     While the deep quiet of the slumbering grove 
     Comes o'er the soul, and broods it like a dove:
The tall trees, bearded with a century's moss, 
     Stand like gray prophets of the olden day, 
     And waken thoughts that shall not pass away;
Even the shy squirrel, as he leaps across 
The leafy path, or dings with careless toss 
     His agile form from rock to bending spray, 
Awakes a kindred joy with his funtastic play.

                                         III.
Thus gathers all the stirs the heart of man
     All save the wrong – yet chastened, and ?? ??
     Revealed to ??? Joy to the ??? ???
[FOUR LINES OBSCURED]
Awed Reverence to the tall and blasted trees, 
     And the dark rock whose furrowed front appears
     Seared with the thunders of a thousand years;
While quiet Grief goes murmuring in the breeze,
And Love in every vine her emblem sees;
     What soul would scorn to bow where Nature rears
A Shrine surrounded thus, and all that is, endears?