The flowers I pass have eyes that look at me, <br />The birds have ears that hear my spirit's voice, <br />And I am glad the leaping brook to see, <br />Because it does at my light step rejoice. <br />Come, brothers, all who tread the grassy hill, <br />Or wander thoughtless o'er the blooming fields, <br />Come learn the sweet obedience of the will; <br />Thence every sight and sound new pleasure yields. <br />Nature shall seem another house of thine, <br />When he who formed thee, bids it live and play, <br />And in thy rambles e'en the creeping vine <br />Shall keep with thee a jocund holiday, <br />And every plant, and bird, and insect, be <br />Thine own companions born for harmony.<br /><br />Jones Very<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-pure-all-things-are-pure/
