The Temple

Between the erect and solemn trees     I will go down upon my knees;         I shall not find this day         So meet a place to pray.     Haply the beauty of this place     May work in me an answering grace,         The stillness of the air         Be echoed in my prayer.     The worshipping trees arise and run,     With never a swerve, towards the sun;         So may my soul's desire         Turn to its central fire.     With single aim they seek the light,     And scarce a twig in all their height         Breaks out until the head         In glory is outspread.     How strong each pillared trunk; the bark     That covers them, how smooth; and hark,         The sweet and gentle voice         With which the leaves rejoice!     May a like strength and sweetness fill     Desire, and thought, and steadfast will,         When I remember these         Fair sacramental trees!