Reduce the seeming chaos!... Here we see
The water at its well-head; clear it is,
Not more transpicuous the invisible air;
Pure as an infant’s thoughts; and here to life
And good directed all its uses serve.
The herb grows greener on its brink; sweet flowers
Bend o’er the stream that feeds their freshened roots;
The red-breast loves it for his wintry haunts;
And when the buds begin to open forth,
Builds near it with his mate their brooding nest;