William Cullen Bryant

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

I worship the quicksand he walks in.

Woo the fair one when around
Early birds are singing;
When o'er all the fragrant ground
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Woo the fair one when around
Early birds are singing;
When o'er all the fragrant ground
Early herbs are springing:
When the brookside, bank, and grove
All with blossom laden,
Shine with beauty, breathe of love,
Woo the timid maiden.

The groves were God's first temples.

The groves were God's first temples.

That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,--
Are but read more

That make the meadows green; and, poured round all,
Old Ocean's gray and melancholy waste,--
Are but the solemn decorations all
Of the great tomb of man.

The rugged trees are mingling
Their flowery sprays in love;
The ivy climbs the laurel
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The rugged trees are mingling
Their flowery sprays in love;
The ivy climbs the laurel
To clasp the boughs above.