To Nature

It may indeed be fantasy when I
essay to draw from all created things
deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings;
and trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie
lessons of love and earnest piety.
So let it be; and if the wide world rings
in mock of this belief, it brings
nor fear, nor grief, nor vain perplexity.
So will I build my altar in the fields,
and the blue sky my fretted dome shall be,
and the sweet fragance that the wild flower yields
shall be the incense I will yield to Thee,
Thee only God! and thou shalt not despise
even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge