And shivery leaf-sounds of the solitude,
The spirit wakes to worship, and is made
Thy living temple. By the breath of flowers,
Thou callest us, from city throngs and cares,
Back to the woods, the birds, the mountain-streams,
That sing of thee! back to free childhood’s heart,
Fresh with the dews of tenderness! Thou bidd’st
The lilies of the field with placid smile
Reprove man’s feverish strivings, and infuse
Through his worn soul a more unworldly life,