Classic Poem

Sweet Nature, give me holy dreams,
Caress thy child once more!
Thy holiest cadence softly chant
As thou didst oft of yore.
Amid these mountains silence-sealed,
Beneath this tender sky,
Soothed by thy harmony divine,
Forever would I lie.

Now creeps the mist, — a violet veil,
Above the sacred hills;
The rainbow shimmers in the east,
Low coo the sparkling rills.
My soul so soothed beneath thy touch,
O Nature, chaste and calm,
Would bow before these solemn fanes,
And pour its grateful psalm.

These mountains veiled in mystery,
These skies with meaning fraught,
Rest in the hollow of His hand,
Whose tones Creation caught.
As the strange music of the shell
Tells of the mighty sea,
So these all to our rev'rent souls,
Great Father, speak of Thee!