The Works of Man and the Works of Nature

Man's works grow stale to man: the years destroy
The charm they once possessed; the city tires;
The terraces, the domes, the dazzling spires
Are in the main but an attractive toy--
They please the man not as they pleased the boy;
And he returns to Nature, and requires
To warm his soul at her old altar fires,
To drink from her perpetual fount of joy.
It is that man and all the works of man
Prepare to pass away; he may depend
On naught but what he found her stores among;
But she, she changes not, nor ever can;
He knows she will be faithful to the end,
For ever beautiful, for ever young.