Classic Poem

I BEAR no ill to any hill,
I'm brother to the trees,
My mind doth melt to mountains,
And my soul doth seek the seas;
I greet the sun uprising
With a friendly, loving nod;
Within the breast of Nature
Throbs the heart of God.

To me a star is not afar,
The moon doth know my face,
I often dream beneath her beam,
And sue her sovereign grace;
The sky and air are very fair—
Queen rose and golden-rod;
Within the breast of Nature
Throbs the heart of God.

A little day, and then away
Unto another shore;
Some hasting years of bliss and tears,
Then Charon at the oar;
Whatever cometh after
Our sojourn 'neath the sod,
Within the breast of Nature
Throbs the heart of God.