True lover of all nature’s solemn ways,
The columned forest’s wind-waked song of praise—
Sad chords wherein all deepest joy hath part—
True reader of the primrose’ golden tale,
Finding its glow but shadow of a light
Wherein who seeks may find the Infinite,
That doth its mystery so in least things veil—
A seer thou seem’st in thy high mountain place,
E’er with all holiest visions face to face.