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Nature
Nature would speak through her first master man,He will not heed her kindly calling voice;
He does not call her name as he began,
For in his Maker he cannot rejoice;
Yet still she woos him back with many a call,
That e'en his nature finds it hard to spurn;
And would surrender to his asking all
That now with anxious toil he scarce can earn;
She pleads, but pleads in vain; He will not hear,
But o'er her holds the rod his passions gave;
And thinks she will obey through coward fear,
And be like him of her own self the slave;
But ever fresh she rises 'neath his rod,
For she obeys in love her sovereign God.
Poem No. 350; c. January 1839
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