IN gentlest worship has he bowed To Nature. Rescued from the crowd And din of town and thoroughfare, He turns him from all worldly care Unto the sacred fastness of The forests, and the peace and love That breathes there prayer-like in the breeze And coo of doves in dreamful trees -- Their tops in laps of sunshine laid, Their lower boughs all slaked with shade. With head uncovered has he stood, Hearing the Spirit of the Wood -- Hearing aright the Master speak In trill of bird, and warbling creek; In lisp of reeds, or rainy sigh Of grasses as the loon darts by -- Hearing aright the storm and lull, And all earth's voices wonderful, -- Even this hail an unknown friend Lifts will he hear and comprehend. |