Would'st thou but know where Nature clings,
That cannot pass away!
Stand not to look on human things,
For they shall all decay: —
False hearts shall change and rot to dust,
While truth exerts her powers;
Love lives with Nature, not with lust;
Go, find her in the flowers!


Dost dream o'er faces once so fair,
Unwilling to forget?
Seek Nature in the fields, and there
The first love face is met.
The native gales are lovers' voices,
As nature's self can prove;
The wild field flowers are lovers choices,
And Nature's self is Love.
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