Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/There is a Tongue in every Leaf

There Is a Tongue in Every Leaf.

There is a tongue in every leaf, A voice in every rill—A voice that speaketh everywhere,In flood and fire, through earth and air! A tongue that's never still!

'Tis the Great Spirit, wide diffused Through everything we see,That with our spirits communethOf things mysterious—life and death, Time and eternity!

I see him in the blazing sun, And in the thunder-cloud:I hear him in the mighty roarThat rusheth through the forests hoar When winds are raging loud.

I feel him in the silent dews, By grateful earth betrayed;I feel him in the gentle showers,The soft south wind, the breath of flowers, The sunshine, and the shade.

I see him, hear him, everywhere, In all things—darkness, light,Silence, and sound: but, most of all,When slumber's dusky curtains fall, I' the silent hour of night.