Hymn to the Flowers. 
AY-STARS! that ope your frownless eyes to twinkle 
From rainbow galaxies of earth’s creation, 
And dew-drops on her lonely altars sprinkle 
As a libation. 
N,) 
Ye matin worshipers! who, bending lowly 
Before the uprisen sun, God’s lidless eye, 
Throw from your chalices a sweet and holy 
Incense on high. 
BN 
SONY 
Ye bright mosaics! that with storied beauty 
The floor of Nature’s temple tessellate, 
{ What numerous emblems of instructive duty 
Your forms create! 
i p ’Neath cloistered boughs, each floral bell that swingeth, 
1 LW And tolls its perfume on the passing air, 
ig» § Makes Sabbath in the fields, and ever ringeth 
A call to prayer. 
Not to the domes where crumbling arch and column 
Attest the feebleness of mortal hand, 
But to that fane, most catholic and solemn, 
Which God hath planned; 
To that cathedral, boundless as our wonder, 
Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon supply; 
Its choir the winds and waves, its organ thunder, 
Its dome the sky. 
There, as in solitude and shade I wander 
Through the green aisles, or stretched upon the sod, 
Awed by the silence, reverently ponder 
! The ways of God, 
X1V ay 
Ir 
aan) 
eahg—es 
