a remonstrance.
65
Where the skies seem to bend, in their luminous beauty, So loving and low o'er the green mountain-sod, That the spirit, attuned to devotion and duty, Sees Nature embracing her Father and God!
No temple can match, with a glory so solemn, The forest-cathedral that rises around; The pine's stately shaft, for the fair marble column, All vein'd with the sunlight, and gracefully crown'd;
Its dome—the unlimited arch, glowing o'er us; Its censer—yon budding spray, swung by the breeze; Its music—the hymn of the fountain before us; Its light—Heaven's smile—stealing soft through the trees:
And oh! the bright treasures around and below us, The buds of the wild mountain-laurel, behold!So perfect, so gem-like! where, where will you show us A richer mosaic in temple of old?
