Select Poetry.
A FOKEBT HYMN. " The groves were Ged's first temple." Your voiceless lips, ye flowers, are living preachers, Each cup a pulpit, every leaf a book, Supplying to my fancy numerous teachers From loneliest nook. 'Neath cloistered boughs each floral bell that swingeth And tolls its fragrance on the passing air, Makes Sabbath to the fields, and everringeth A call to prayer. .- ■ Not to that fane, whose mouldering arch and column Attest the feebleness of mortal hand"; But toihat dome, most catholic and solemn, Which God hath planned. ' , To that cathedral,' bbnndlek as our wonder, Whose quenchless lamps the sun and moon ' supply,. - Its choir the winds and waves, -its organ thunder, ■ , Its dom& the sky. There amid solitude and shade I wander Through the .green. aisles, or stretched upon the sod, Awed by the silence reverently ponder The ways of God. ' \
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/THS18800306.2.3
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Thames Star, Volume XI, Issue 3494, 6 March 1880, Page 1
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143Select Poetry. Thames Star, Volume XI, Issue 3494, 6 March 1880, Page 1
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