HERE all the forces of the wood <br />As one converge, <br />To make the soul of solitude <br />Where all things merge. <br />The sun, the rain-wind, and the rain, <br />The visiting moon, <br />The hurrying cloud by peak and plain, <br />Each with its boon. <br />Here power attains perfection still <br />In mighty ease, <br />That the great earth may have her will <br />Of joy and peace. <br />And so through me, the mortal born <br />Of plasmic clay, <br />Immortal powers, kind, fierce, forlorn, <br />And glad, have sway. <br />Eternal passions, ardors fine, <br />And monstrous fears, <br />Rule and rebel, serene, malign, <br />Or loosed in tears; <br />Until at last they shall evolve <br />From griefs and joys <br />Some steady light, some firm resolve, <br />Some Godlike poise.<br /><br />Bliss William Carman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-god-of-the-wood/
