NATURE! Well hath the Poet said: "Who can

Paint like to thee?" Inimitably fine

Seem all the hues and colorings of thine,

Though microscopic eye may closely scan:

Close search but lifts the mystic veil that hides

Thy scenes of beauty. In the tiny cup

Of thy fair flowers, what wonders open up!

Lo! a whole insect nation there resides,

Clad in rich vests of fine embroidery,

Or coats of living purple, green, and gold.

Such fairy scenes, so constantly unrolled,

Declare design most manifest to be;

And the least path Omnipotence hath trod

Exhibits footprints of our glorious God.