 | Poems |  |
64
THE PICTURE.
My mind obeys the power
That through all persons breathes,
And woods are murmuring,
And fields begin to sing,
And in me nature wreathes.
That through all persons breathes,
And woods are murmuring,
And fields begin to sing,
And in me nature wreathes.
Thou too art with me here,—
The best of all design;
Of that strong purity
Which makes it joy to be
A distant thought of thine.
The best of all design;
Of that strong purity
Which makes it joy to be
A distant thought of thine.
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