Classic Poem

Among the trees, O God,
Is there not one
That with unrivalled love
Thou look'st upon?

And of all blessed birds,
Hath not thy Love
Found for its fittest mate
The homing dove?

Or, mid the flame of flowers
That light the land,
Doth not the lily first
Before thee stand?

So says my soul, O God,
The type of thee.
" In each life-circle, one
Was made for me. "