Doth the flower find the sun,
Whence alone its life must come?
Doth the tree-sap upward flow,
Turning from earth's power below?
Doth the leaflet glance above,
To return God's smile of love?
Doth for sunshine pine the fruit,
It absorbs not from the root?
Doth the forest skyward march,
Like some grand cathedral arch?
Doth the bee fly toward the light,
Shunning darkness as its blight?
Doth the ant, to higher land,
Tug his mite of delved sand?
Doth the bird, on rising wing,
To the blue celestial sing?
Doth the fount stream toward the sky,
Where its watery source must lie?
Doth the flame, from household hearth,
Seek anew its pristine birth?
Thus, oh thought, shouldst thou aspire,
Toward supernal, sacred fire!
