Nature ever yields reward
To him who seeks, and loves her best.
BARRY CORNWALL: _Above and Below._
O Nature, how fair is thy face,
And how light is thy heart, and how friendless thy grace!
OWEN MEREDITH: _Lucile,_ Pt. i., Canto v., St. 28.
To him who in the love of Nature holds
Communion with her visible forms, she speaks
A various language; for his gayer hours
She has a voice of gladness, and a smile
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides
Into his darker musings, with a mild
And healing sympathy, that steals away
Their sharpness, ere he is aware.
WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT: _Thanatopsis._