ARBOR DA Y MANUAL. 
197 
Lord ! all Thy works are lessons; each contains 
Some emblem of man’s all containing soul; 
Shall he make fruitless all Thy glorious pains, 
Delving within thy grace and eyeless mole ? 
Make me the least of Thy Dodona-grove, 
Cause me some message of Thy truth to bring, 
Speak but a word through me, nor let Thy love 
Among my boughs disdain to perch and sing. 
James Russell Lowell. 
NATURE’S TEMPLE. 
T ALK not of temples — there is one, built without hands, to mankind given ; 
Its lamps are the meridian sun, and all the stars of heaven. 
Its walls are the cerulean sky, its floor the earth, serene and fair; 
The dome is vast immensity — all Nature worships there ! 
The Alps arrayed in stainless snow, the Andean ranges yet untrod, 
At sunrise and at sunset glow, like altar-fires to God ! 
A thousand fierce volcanoes blaze, as if with hallowed victims rare; 
And thunder lifts its voice in praise — all Nature worships there ! 
The cedar and the mountain pine, the willow on the fountain’s brim, 
The tulip and the eglantine, in reverence bend to Him ; 
The song-birds pour their sweetest lays, from tower, and tree and middle air; 
The rushing river murmurs praise — all Nature worships there! 
David Vedder. 
SPRING. 
C OME, gentle spring! ethereal mildness, come, 
And from the bosom of yon dropping cloud, 
While music wakes around, veiled in a shower 
Of shadowing roses, on our plains descend. 
And see where surly winter passes off, 
Far to the north, and calls his ruffian blasts; 
His blasts obey, and quit the howling hill, 
The shattered forest, and the ravaged vale; 
While softer gales succeed, at whose kind touch, 
Dissolving snows in living torrents lost, 
The mountains lift their green heads to the sky. 
From Thomson’s “ Seasons." 
And there is Pansies — that’s for thoughts. 
Hamlet. 
