To Nature.
"While about thy veil I lingered, playing,
And, like any bud, upon thee hung,[2]
Still I felt thy heart in every straying
Sound about my heart that shook and clung.
While I groped with faith and painful yearning,
To your picture, glowing and unfurled,
Still I found a place for all my burning
Tears, and for my love I found a world!
"To the Sun my heart, before all others,
Turned and felt its potent magicry;
And it called the stars its little brothers,[3]
And it called the Spring, God's melody;
And each breeze in groves or woodlands fruity
Held thy spirit—and that same sweet joy
Moved the well-springs of my heart with beauty—
Those were golden days without alloy.
"Where the Spring is cool in every valley,[4]
And the youngest bush and twig is green,
And about the rocks the grasses rally,
And the branches show the sky between,
There I lay, imbibing every flower
In a rapt, intoxicated glee,
And, surrounded by a golden shower,
From their heights the clouds sank down to me.[5]
"Often, as a weary, wandering river
Longs to join the ocean's placid mirth,
I have wept and lost myself forever
In the fulness of thy love, O Earth!
Then—with all the ardor of my being—
Forth I rushed from Time's slow apathy,
Like a pilgrim home from travel, fleeing
To the arms of rapt Eternity.
"Blessed be childhood's golden dreams, their power
Hid from me Life's dismal poverty:
