I Cannot See What Flowers Are At

What Is There In Thee, Moon! That Thou Should'st Move My Heart So Potently?

You Are Always New To Me.

Let Us Open Our Leaves Like A Flower, And Be Passive And Receptive.

O Solitude! If I Must With Thee Dwell, Let It Not Be Among The Jumbled Heap Of Murky Buildings: Climb With Me The Steep,-- Nature's Observatory--whence The Dell, In Flowery Slopes, Its River's Crystal Swell, May Seem A Span; Let Me Thy Vigils Keep 'mongst Boughs Pavilion'd, Where The Deer's Swift Leap Startles The Wild Bee From The Foxglove Bell.

To One Who Has Been Long In City Pent, ’tis Very Sweet To Look Into The Fair And Open Face Of Heaven, — To Breathe A Prayer Full In The Smile Of The Blue Firmament.