Nature is a temple whose living colonnades <br />Breathe forth a mystic speech in fitful sighs; <br />Man wanders among symbols in those glades <br />Where all things watch him with familiar eyes. <br /> <br />Like dwindling echoes gathered far away <br />Into a deep and thronging unison <br />Huge as the night or as the light of day, <br />All scents and sounds and colors meet as one. <br /> <br />Perfumes there are as sweet as the oboe's sound, <br />Green as the prairies, fresh as a child's caress, <br />- And there are others, rich, corrupt, profound <br /> <br />And of an infinite pervasiveness, <br />Like myrrh, or musk, or amber, the excite <br />The ecstasies of sense, the soul's delight.<br /><br />Charles Baudelaire<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/correspondences/
