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86
THE BOOK OF NATURE.
(“There are two books,” writes Sir Thomas Browne, in the Religio Medici, “from which I collect my divinity; besides that written one of God, another of his servant Nature—that universal and public manuscript, that lies expanded unto the eyes of all.” ------ “Possibly, even the heathens knew better how to join and read these mystical letters, than many Christians, who cast a more careless eye on these common hieroglyphics, and disdain to suck divinity from the flowers of nature.”)
The manuscript of Nature's book
Is open spread to every eye,
But few into the leaves will look
That round them lie.
Is open spread to every eye,
But few into the leaves will look
That round them lie.
In characters both quaint and old,
Yet easy to be understood;
On every hill and vale unrolled,
In every wood.
Yet easy to be understood;
On every hill and vale unrolled,
In every wood.
87
I see the oaks, like belted knights,
With sturdy sinews gird the land;
As Birnam wood besieged the heights
In Malcolm's hand.
With sturdy sinews gird the land;
As Birnam wood besieged the heights
In Malcolm's hand.
The solemn brotherhood of pines,
Like monks slow chaunting in the choir,
Nos miserere: Cypress nuns
In sad attire.
Like monks slow chaunting in the choir,
Nos miserere: Cypress nuns
In sad attire.
But where around the opening glade,
Aslant the golden light descends,
And through alternate sun and shade
The footpath wends;
Aslant the golden light descends,
And through alternate sun and shade
The footpath wends;
And deeper in, the level sward
With cooler shadows overspread—
(Oh page more worthy of award
Than eye hath read!)
With cooler shadows overspread—
(Oh page more worthy of award
Than eye hath read!)
88
From root to top the haws are crowned
With tïaras of snowy bloom,
Through purple violet lips the ground
Exhales perfume.
With tïaras of snowy bloom,
Through purple violet lips the ground
Exhales perfume.
And there, unto the poet's heart,
Illumined with a thousand dyes,
And granite claspings all undone,
The volume lies.
Illumined with a thousand dyes,
And granite claspings all undone,
The volume lies.
Be patient, poet—say the Haws;
The human heart that flowers bears,
Will ripen fruit in autumn days
Of after years.
The human heart that flowers bears,
Will ripen fruit in autumn days
Of after years.
Be humble—breathe the Violets;
More worthily is honour won,
If they a pleasing fragrance find
Who looked for none.
More worthily is honour won,
If they a pleasing fragrance find
Who looked for none.
89
And if thou—say the Calmias,
A pride in exaltation hast,
See how our bloom that crowns the cliff
Wastes every blast.
A pride in exaltation hast,
See how our bloom that crowns the cliff
Wastes every blast.
Love—saith the yellow Jasmine—Love!
In vain the storm menaces him
Who binds his bosom's tendrils round
A steadfast limb.
In vain the storm menaces him
Who binds his bosom's tendrils round
A steadfast limb.
And if indeed a poet's heart
Thou hast, who walkest in this wood,
Believe that God, in fruit or bloom,
Works out some good.
Thou hast, who walkest in this wood,
Believe that God, in fruit or bloom,
Works out some good.
1847.
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