SOME LOVERS OF NATURE. 



Our Music's in the Hills. EMERSON. 



The groves were God's first temples. BRYANT. 



Nature, the vicar of the Almighty Lord. CHAUCER. 



The liquid notes that close the eye of day, (the Nightingale). MILTON. 



When spring unlocks the flowers to paint the laughing soil. BISHOP HEBER. 



O, for a seat in some poetic nook, 



Just hid with trees and sparkling with a brook. LEIGH HUNT. 



By shallow rivers, to whose falls 



Melodious birds sing madrigals. CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE. 



To me the meanest flower that blows can give 



Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. WORDSWORTH. 



To him who in the love of nature holds 

 Communion with her visible forms, she speaks 

 A various language. BRYANT. 



And this one life, exempt from public haunt, 

 Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, 

 Sermons in stones, and good in everything. SHAKESPEARE. 



And now 'twas like all instruments, 



Now like a lonely flute ; 



And now it is an angel's song, 



That makes the heavens be mute. COLERIDGE. 



There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 



There is a rapture in the lonely shore, 



There is society, where none intrudes, 



By the deep sea, and music in its roar ; 



I love not Man the less, but Nature more. BYRON. 



In June 'tis good to be beneath a tree 

 While the blithe season comforts every sense; 

 Steeps all the brain in rest, and heals the heart, 

 Brimming it o'er with sweetness unawares, 

 Fragrant and silent as that rosy snow 

 Wherewith the pitying apple-tree fills up 

 And tenderly lines some last-year's Robin's nest LOWELL. 



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