Classic Poem

To heal mine aching moods,
Give me God's virgin woods,
His cloistral solitudes,
Where none intrudes!

A dim sequestered place,
With leaves that link and lace,
Where peace and primal grace
Meet face to face.

There would I gain heart's-ease
From the sweet calm of trees,
And the low melodies
Of birds and bees.

There would the balm distill
A soothing for all ill;
With cheerfulness the rill
My heart would fill.

I would go softly thence
With a far kindlier sense;
With more benevolence,
And less pretence.

Fairer the sky would ope;
Less would I, faltering, grope;
But tread life's onward slope
With surer hope!