The Higher Brotherhood

To come in touch with mysteries Of beauty idealizing Earth, Go seek the hills, grown green with trees, The old hills wise with death and birth.

There you may hear the heart that beats In streams, where music has its source; And in wild rocks of mossed retreats Behold the silent soul of force.

Above the love that emanates From human passion, and reflects The flesh, must be the love that waits On Nature, whose high call elects

None to her secrets save the few Who hold that facts are far less real Than dreams, with which all facts indue Themselves approaching the ideal.