I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue read more

I thank you God for this most amazing day, for the leaping greenly spirits of trees, and for the blue dream of sky and for everything which is natural, which is infinite, which is yes.

Kites rise highest against the wind - not with it.

Kites rise highest against the wind - not with it.

And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, read more

And this, our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.

Once you have heard the lark, known the swish of feet through hill-top grass and smelt the earth made ready read more

Once you have heard the lark, known the swish of feet through hill-top grass and smelt the earth made ready for the seed, you are never again going to be fully happy about the cities and towns that man carries like a crippling weight upon his back.

Spring being a tough act to follow, God created June.

Spring being a tough act to follow, God created June.

By reading the scriptures I am so renewed that all nature seems renewed around me and with me. The sky read more

By reading the scriptures I am so renewed that all nature seems renewed around me and with me. The sky seems to be a pure, a cooler blue, the trees a deeper green. The whole world is charged with the glory of God and I feel fire and music under my feet.

As you sit on the hillside, or lie prone under the trees of the forest, or sprawl wet-legged by a read more

As you sit on the hillside, or lie prone under the trees of the forest, or sprawl wet-legged by a mountain stream, the great door, that does not look like a door, opens.

He got a corporation mind. He doesn't believe in nature; he puts his trust and distrust in man.

He got a corporation mind. He doesn't believe in nature; he puts his trust and distrust in man.

Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of read more

Poetry is a rich, full-bodied whistle, cracked ice crunching in pails, the night that numbs the leaf, the duel of two nightingales, the sweet pea that has run wild, Creation's tears in shoulder blades.