There is religion in everything around us,
A calm and holy religion
In the unbreathing things in Nature.

It is a meek and blessed influence,
Stealing in as it were unaware upon the heart;
It comes quickly, and without excitement;
It has no terror, no gloom;
It does not rouse up the passions;
It is untrammeled by creeds...

It is written on the arched sky;
It looks out from every star;
It is on the sailing cloud and in the invisible wind;
It is among the hills and valleys of the Earth
Where the shrubless mountain-top pierces the thin atmosphere
of eternal winter,
Or where the mighty forest fluctuates before the strong wind,
With its dark waves of green foliage;