THE FOREST TEMPLE.

Lonely, and wild, and vast! Oh, is not here A temple meet for worship? These tall trees Stand like encircling columns, each begirt With the light drapery of the curling vine; While bending from above their woven leaves Like shadowy curtains hang; the trembling light Steals sparkling through, tinged with an added beauty Of bright and changeful green. Sweeping their tops, The low deep wind comes with a solemn tone, Like some high organ’s music, and the stream With rushing wave makes hallowed symphony. Is not religion here? Doth not her voice Speak in those deep-toned murmurs? Aye! not less ’Tis sweetly uttered in the wild bird’s note, That upward with its hymn of joy and love Soars to the clear blue sky. The heaving ground Robed in its verdant mantle—the cool spring That gushes forth its joy, and sends abroad A radiant blessing to the thirsty earth— The glowing flowers that throng its mossy brink, Shedding their perfumes to the breezes round— Are redolent of her. Who then would seek To pour his heart’s devotion in a shrine Less mighty—less majestic? Who would quit A temple canopied by arching heaven, Fraught with the melody of heaven’s free winds, Nature his fellow worshipper, to bow In man’s frail sanctuaries? Who feels not In the lone forest depths at this still hour, A thrill of holy joy, that lifts the soul Above the thoughts of earth, and gives it power Nearer to commune with its kindred heaven?