Page:Scenes and Hymns of Life.pdf/213



We receive but what we give, And in our life alone does nature live: Ours is her wedding-garment, ours her shroud! And would we aught behold of higher worth Than that inanimate cold world allowed To the poor, loveless, ever-anxious crowd; Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud, Enveloping the earth— And from the soul itself must there be sent A sweet and potent voice of its own birth, Of all sweet sounds the life and element. .

spot of holy ground! If thou couldst yet be found, Far in deep woods, with all thy starry flowers; If not one sullying breath Of time, or change, or death, Had touched the vernal glory of thy bowers;