Nature is wonderful, the light that plays
In every pleasing shape that eye could wish,
Painting the sunrise with Aurora's blush
And evening with the sunset's burning flames,
Flooding the zenith as with burnished gold
And e'en the gloaming with enchanting shades
That though less brilliant yet within themselves
Possess distinct and fascinating charms,
Is wonderful if we but paused to think
What our bright world would be, deprived of light,
Even the night would miss the twinkling lamps
And mellow moonbeams; while the day
Would lose her all, for light is day; and darkness
Would usurp her throne, hanging a sable curtain where before
The golden beams lost their identity in one unbroken flood, that swept adown
Aerial channels and through rifted clouds,
Harmoniously blending earth and heaven.
Take only light--one blessing of our earth--
Leaving all else, flowers, birds and trees, beautiful landscapes, homes of loveliness,
Glittering gems and piles of hoarded wealth;
What were all these without a ray of light?
An idle mockery, through starless night blinded and groping, to exist where death,
Roaming through flowery meadows, by cool brooks
Stumbling o'er paths within a hopeless maze,
Thirsting with plenteous streams on eather hand,
Dying of hunger in green fields of corn,
Take light, and day is night and life is death
Comfort and happiness and friends are lost
In the dark labyrinth of starless night.
The humblest weed in some dark crevice hid
Holds in its narrow limits the same forces
That control the mighty tree and bid it add
Year after year the leaf, the twig, the branch,
'Till 'neath its friendly shade, beasts of the field find
Shelter from Summer's scorching rays
And the tired traveler reclines to rest.
It stands a living tree in miniature
Lifting its tiny branches toward the heavens,
Spreading its leaflets to the morning sun
Rearing its buds and blossoms, fruit and seeds, to live and flourish when it has decayed.
We pass them by or tread them 'neath our feet,
Yet Nature with her wealth of birds and flowers,
Has in her heart a place for every weed;
For her quick eyes require no microscope
To note the varied wonders and delights
That the Creator's humblest works possess.