The God of the Wood by Bliss Carman — Read

Here all the forces of the wood / As one converge, / To make the soul of solitude / Where all things merge.

The sun, the rain-wind, and the rain, / The visiting moon, / The hurrying cloud by peak and plain, / Each with its boon.

Here power attains perfection still / In mighty ease, / That the great earth may have her will / Of joy and peace.

And so through me, the mortal born / Of plasmic clay, / Immortal powers, kind, fierce, forlorn, / And glad, have sway.

Eternal passions, ardors fine, / And monstrous fears, / Rule and rebel, serene, malign, / Or loosed in tears;

Until at last they shall evolve / From griefs and joys / Some steady light, some firm resolve, / Some Godlike poise.