In The Wildwood

I lie where silence sleeps, And twilight dreams and sighs; Where all heaven’s azure peeps Blue from one wildflower’s eyes; Where, in reflecting deeps, A world, inverted, lies, Of dimmer woods and skies:

Divining God from things Humble as weed and bee; From songs the wild bird sings Guessing at poetry; And from each flower that swings, Each star-familiar tree, Learning philosophy.