In the Woodlands

Through the whispering pines I roam, Where the wild flowers make their home. Beneath the boughs, the sun’s soft shield, In sacred shades, my heart is healed.

The ferns uncurl, the brook flows clear, Each note of nature drawing near; With every step, a tale unfolds, In verdant glade, the secret holds.

Here the air is rich with grace, Each breath reveals a sacred space; Amongst the green, my spirit flies, In woodlands deep, the heart complies.

• Philip Webb