Song of the Out-of-Doors

COME with me, O you world-weary, to the haunts of thrush and veery,

To the cedar’s dim cathedral and the palace of the pine;

Let the soul within you capture something of the wildwood rapture,

Something of the epic passion of that harmony divine!

Down the pathway let us follow through the hemlocks to the hollow,

To the woven, vine-wound thickets in the twilight vague and old,

While the streamlet winding after is a trail of silver laughter,

And the boughs above hint softly of the melodies they hold.

Through the forest, never caring what the way our feet are faring,

We shall hear the wild birds’ revel in the labyrinth of Tune,

And on mossy carpets tarry in His temples cool and airy,

Hung with silence and the splendid, amber tapestry of noon.

Leave the hard heart of the city, with its poverty of pity,

Leave the folly and the fashion wearing out the faith of men,

Breathe the breath of life blown over upland meadows white with clover,

And with childhood’s clearer vision see the face of God again!