To Nature

O Nature! thou art mine, I wander in thy paths divine; With every breeze that stirs, I feel thy voice amongst the firs.

With every dew upon the grass, I see thy gentle hand that has Made every flower thy beck and call, And in thy presence I am small.

Yet grander far than aught may seem, I find in thee the heart’s pure dream, A whisper soft, a tender sigh, In beauty’s bloom, I live, I die.

• Thomas Woolner