Classic Poem

It is enough, in sooth, that grass is green,
That skies are blue, that rivers pulse along
In placid peace, that great, white clouds are seen
Piled up in Heaven, that clear, melodious song
Thrills from birds' throats, that lofty hills invite
Our souls up, that the sea and shore combine
In perfect beauty, that the lovely light
Of human eyes is with us. Then resign
Thyself, my soul, to these life's boundaries
Fain wouldst thou lose thyself? How shall it be? —
First let it be in quivering hearts of trees,
Then in the dreaming mountains and blue sea;
Perchance when thou hast learned these well to scan,
Last, thou shalt lose thee in the soul of man.