69 
THE WOOD ANEMONE 
There is a power, a presence in the woods, 
A viewless Being that with life and love 
Informs the reverential solitude; 
The rich air knows it, and the mossy sod,— 
Thou,-thou art there, my God! 
And if with awe we tread 
The minster-floor beneath the storied pane, 
And midst the mouldering banners of the dead; 
Shall the green voiceful wind seem less thy fane, 
Whieh thou alone hast built; where arch and roof 
Are of thy living woof? 
The silence and the Sound, 
In the lone-places, breathe alike of thee; 
The temple twilight of the gloom profound, 
The dew-cup of the frail Anemone. 
Mus. II f,mans. 
There are several small woods within a short distance 
of our home; in one of these the Wood Anemone grows 
most abundantly, and links itself in my mind with many 
a pleasant walk. In spring our visits to this wood are 
more frequent than to either of the others, 
“ When earth exulting from lier wintry tomb 
Breaks forth with flowers.’ 
