To Nature

This is a poem I found online in a book called, Poems of Paganism; Songs of Life and Love, by L. Cranmer Byng, published in 1895. Some of the poems didn't catch my attention, but this one did:

To Nature

Oh! many a time upon thy kind old breast

I've eased my heart of persecution's quest,

And, gazing awestruck over solemn skies,

Sunk swooning into mystic reveries;

And often, when the bitter tears were blinding,

I've felt thy gentle arms around me winding,

And heard a zephyr whisper in mine ear:

"Child of the sun and sea, thy home is here.

Where in the brake the fluted throstles sing,

And homing doves are faintly hovering,

Calm peace shall lay what human anguish lingers,

And sweep the lyre with mild, angelic fingers.

Then take thy wounded spirit from the world

To where the heart of Nature is unfurled;

Where, o'er thy head, the trembling tree-tops close,

And life is one long summer of repose,

By star-kissed stream, and echo-haunted cave,

And lonely isle that lazy waters lave;

Where sorrow sleeps and all existence seems

A many-coloured galaxy of dreams."

Notes:       

(1) brake: thicket 

(2) throstle: The Internet says this is an archaic usage for "song thrush".