Classic Poem

I

'T IS Nature's temple, and the day
Is full of worship as of light.
A sigh from now and 't will be night;
The lordly vision will not stay.
With dusky incense throbs the gray
Half dome of sky. A cloistered note
Of lingering bird-song sounds remote
As the last echo of a hymn
Sung in recessional, cold and dim.
I worship, but as though the praise
Must pass through Nature's priestly ways,
For God doth seem as lone and far
As yonder uncompanioned star,
September's Eve.

II

A LONG the mountain's altar crest
The russet deepens in the West,
As when to richer chords the close
Of noble music softly flows.
Now speed my footsteps through the dark,
I see my leaping hearth, and hark!
Th' expectant children's view-halloo
Rings out a melody of cheer.
The rushing feet approach; I hear
The lavish welcome panting through.
How bright the sudden stars appear
In friendly groups! Now God is near.
For Love is in her temple, too,
September's Eve.