The Hushed Winds Their Sabbath Keep.

I Grieve For Life's Bright Promise, Just Shown And Then Withdrawn.

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.

Ah, Why Should We, In The World's Riper Years, Neglect God's Ancient Sanctuaries, And Adore Only Among The Crowd And Under Roofs That Our Frail Hands Have Raised?

Look On This Beautiful World, And Read The Truth In Her Fair Page.

Or, Bide Thou Where The Poppy Blows With Windflowers Fail And Fair.