To Nature

• It may indeed be phantasy, when I
• Essay to draw from all created things
• Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings ;
• And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie
• Lessons of love and earnest piety.
• So let it be ; and if the wide world rings
• In mock of this belief, it brings
• Nor fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity.
• So will I build my altar in the fields,
• And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be,
• And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields
• Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee,
• Thee only God ! and thou shalt not despise
• Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice.