THE FOREST TEMPLE.
Lonely, and wild, and vast! Oh, is not here
A temple meet for worship? These tall trees
Stand like encircling columns, each begirt
With the light drapery of the curling vine;
While bending from above their woven leaves
Like shadowy curtains hang; the trembling light
Steals sparkling through, tinged with an added beauty
Of bright and changeful green. Sweeping their tops,
The low deep wind comes with a solemn tone,
Like some high organ’s music, and the stream
With rushing wave makes hallowed symphony.
Is not religion here? Doth not her voice
Speak in those deep-toned murmurs? Aye! not less
’Tis sweetly uttered in the wild bird’s note,
That upward with its hymn of joy and love
Soars to the clear blue sky. The heaving ground
Robed in its verdant mantle—the cool spring
That gushes forth its joy, and sends abroad
A radiant blessing to the thirsty earth—
The glowing flowers that throng its mossy brink,
Shedding their perfumes to the breezes round—
Are redolent of her. Who then would seek
To pour his heart’s devotion in a shrine
Less mighty—less majestic? Who would quit
A temple canopied by arching heaven,
Fraught with the melody of heaven’s free winds,
Nature his fellow worshipper, to bow
In man’s frail sanctuaries? Who feels not
In the lone forest depths at this still hour,
A thrill of holy joy, that lifts the soul
Above the thoughts of earth, and gives it power
Nearer to commune with its kindred heaven?