Go thou and seek the House of Prayer! <br /> I to the Woodlands wend, and there <br />In lovely Nature see the GOD OF LOVE. <br /> The swelling organ's peal <br /> Wakes not my soul to zeal, <br />Like the wild music of the wind-swept grove. <br />The gorgeous altar and the mystic vest <br />Rouse not such ardor in my breast, <br /> As where the noon-tide beam <br /> Flash'd from the broken stream, <br />Quick vibrates on the dazzled sight; <br /> Or where the cloud-suspended rain <br /> Sweeps in shadows o'er the plain; <br />Or when reclining on the clift's huge height <br />I mark the billows burst in silver light. <br /> <br /> Go thou and seek the House of Prayer! <br /> I to the Woodlands shall repair, <br /> Feed with all Natures charms mine eyes, <br /> And hear all Natures melodies. <br /> The primrose bank shall there dispense <br /> Faint fragrance to the awaken'd sense, <br /> The morning beams that life and joy impart <br /> Shall with their influence warm my heart. <br /> And the full tear that down my cheek will steal, <br /> Shall speak the prayer of praise I feel! <br /> <br /> Go thou and seek the House of Prayer! <br />I to the woodlands bend my way <br /> And meet RELIGION there. <br />She needs not haunt the high-arch'd dome to pray <br />Where storied windows dim the doubtful day: <br />With LIBERTY she loves to rove. <br /> Wide o'er the heathy hill or cowslip'd dale; <br />Or seek the shelter of the embowering grove, <br />Sweet are these scenes to her, and when the night <br />Pours in the north her silver streams of light, <br />She woos Reflexion in the silent gloom, <br />And ponders on the world to come.<br /><br />Robert Southey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/written-on-sunday-morning/
