Nature is a temple from whose living columns Commingling voices emerge at times; Here man wanders through forests of symbols Which seem to observe him with familiar eyes. Like long-drawn echoes afar converging In harmonies darksome and profound, Vast as the night and vast as light, Colors, scents and sounds correspond. There are fragrances fresh as the flesh of children, Sweet as the oboe, green as the prairie, -And others overpowering, rich and corrupt, Possessing the pervasiveness of everlasting things, Like benjamin, frankincense, amber, myrrh, Which the raptures of the senses and the spirit sing. |