  BY fields of grass and woodland silences The city’s tumult is encamped around; The jingling, clanging, shrieking fiends of sound Expire within the wide world-circling breeze. The soul amid a multitude of trees, Or grass enveloped on the fragrant ground, Is lifted to its utmost starry round, And listens to celestial harmonies. From this unspeakably divine rebirth, Its sordid life returning shows through rifts How purely spreads the sky, how musical The streams and breezes flow across the earth, How light the tree its fruity load uplifts, How easily the weed is beautiful. |
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