Here The Free Spirit Of Mankind, At

The Groves Were God's First Temple. Ere Man Learned To Hew The Shaft, And Lay The Architrave, And Spread The Roof Above Them,--ere He Framed The Lofty Vault, To Gather And Roll Back The Sound Of Anthems; In The Darkling Wood, Amidst The Cool And Silence, He Knelt Down And Offered To The Mightiest Solemn Thanks And Supplication.

The Little Wind-flower, Whose Just Opened Eye Is Blue As The Spring Heaven It Gazes At.

Go Forth Under The Open Sky, And List To Nature's Teachings.

Hark To That Shrill, Sudden Shout, The Cry Of An Applauding Multitude, Swayed By Some Loud-voiced Orator Who Wields The Living Mass As If He Were Its Soul!

Sustained And Soothed By An Unfaltering Trust, Approach Thy Grave, Like One Who Wraps The Drapery Of His Couch About Him, And Lies Down To Pleasant Dreams.