A Forest Hymn

The groves were God’s first temples. Ere man made His markings on the earth, and traced the skies With stains of gold, and wrought the tangled wood, And taught it to assume a human place Among the things that time and space define, There Nature’s first pure altars were beneath The open heaven, where the silent trees Stood in their solemnity, and swayed Their boughs in rhythm with the wild brooks’ flow, That sang their jubilee of life and peace,

In tones that mingled with the sighing leaves. Each dropping seed imperceptibly took root, And every snowflake that drifted from the cold White ether fell with purpose, where to grow And spread its branches; thus the wind-borne seeds Took shape and beauty, and their blossomed forms Brought to perfection all the hapless lives That shrined within their capsules waited, still, For one who cometh, ‘Thank God for the trees!’

A prayer ascended from the silenced flames, The wind made whispers in the trembling reed, The streams made melody, and every faun, And every nymph, and every sylph, communed, As creatures, human and otherwise do find Their joy, amid the breathing, patient woods, The solemn thorns, the wild and fragrant bloom.

Oh, for the chance to roam these ancient haunts, And feel the glorious warmth of life unfold, With every step, and every heart’s desire, Till I could put my wand’ring thoughts to rest Beneath the arching boughs, and whisper prayer, That there might be for all, a sacred shrine, Enshrined within the heart reveals the peace That Nature offers to her worshippers.

• Constance Fennell