When Nature Made The Blue-bird She Wished

Nature Comes Home To One Most When One Is At Home. The Stranger And Traveler Finds Her A Stranger And Traveler Also.

I Still Find Each Day Too Short For All The Thoughts I Want To Think, All The Walks I Want To Take, All The Books I Want To Read, And All The Friends I Want To See.

I See On A Immense Scale, And As Clearly As In A Demonstration In A Laboratory, That Good Comes Out Of Evil; That The Impartiality Of The Nature Providence Is Best; That We Are Made Strong By What We Overcome; That Man Is Man Because He Is As Free To Do Evil As To Do Good; That Life Is As Free To Develop Hostile Forms As To Develop Friendly; That Power Waits Upon Him Who Earns It; That Disease, Wars, The Unloosened, Devastating Elemental Forces Have Each And All Played Their Part In Developing And Hardening Man And Giving Him The Heroic Fiber.

Every Walk To The Woods Is A Religious Rite, Every Bath In The Stream Is A Saving Ordinance. Communion Service Is At All Hours, And The Bread And Wine Are From The Heart And Marrow Of Mother Earth. There Are No Heretics In Nature's Church; All Are Believers, All Are Communicants. The Beauty Of Natural Religion Is That You Have It All The Time; You Do Not Have To Seek It Afar Off In Myths And Legends, In Catacombs, In Garbled Texts, In Miracles Of Dead Saints Or Wine-bibbing Friars. It Is Of Today; It Is Now And Here; It Is Everywhere.

The Bluebird Enjoys The Preeminence Of Being The First Bit Of Color That Cheers Our Northern Landscape. The Other Birds That Arrive About The Same Time--the Sparrow, The Robin, The Phoebe-bird--are Clad In Neutral Tints, Gray, Brown, Or Russet; But The Bluebird Brings One Of The Primary Hues And The Divinest Of Them All.