TO NATURE

It may indeed be phantasy, when I

　Essay to draw from all created things

　Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings;

And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie

Lessons of love and earnest piety.

　So let it be; and if the wide world rings

　In mock of this belief, it brings

Nor fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity.

So will I build my altar in the fields,

　And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be,

And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields

　Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee,

Thee only God! and thou shalt not despise

Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice.

?1820