Admiration of Nature

When men talk much to me of woods and hills,
How evening lights and star-embroidered skies
Go through them with mysterious sympathies,
How gushing cataracts and diving rills
Find way into their hearts, and Autumn pale,
And Spring ere sunny June hath raised her veil,
And Summer's breadth of slia.l, are full of thought-
Then I believe them not: they have but caught
A trick of words from some dear minstrel's verse.
The awful spirit of reserve, that dwells

In nature's forms and shadows, hides in cells,
The jealous hearts of bards, her treasures rare.
Men that have been with God learn silence there,
Nor at all times their secret joys rehearse.