The Hillsdale standard. [volume] (Hillsdale, Mich.) 1851-1909, 1858-06-22
IHE VOICE OF NATURE.

Poem Delivered by N. II. Cotton, before the Alph
Kappa Phi Society, March lst,lS5s.
There Is a voice in Nature hidden
Creeps DER the soul oft times unbidden,
Unhenrd Of in the busy crowd It
II thunders still in tones full loud
10 him who hath an ear To hear.
And calls him to her own hid sphere.
The siehing wind mid onder tree
Hath still deeper voice TO me:
And the deep waters rugged roar
As the fam RISES more and'more
And dashes on the rocky beach, 'tt.l
With deeper tones than preachers preach,
And the dread thunderings o the sky
10 the inmost soul give deep reply.
Twas night; the lazy flood beneath
Stretched onward to the distant heath,
While farther on the mountains dim
Rough marked tho high horizons brim,
And slow the vide swell rolled along;
The night bird had forgot her song,
Nor sighed the sad toned wbippowii:
But oil was silent. deathlike, still,
Bot hark! a still small voice is heard,
Yet loud as thunder bolts il roaredl
Broad, deepas the dark waters there,
Yet noiseless as breath OF air;
Still plainly on the air it rings
Tales Of unutterable things
That take place in the spirit land,
Which mortal ne'er may understand.
The western sky grows dull and dark
The smoky mir bears deeper mark
The clouds float wildly on the air
Deep thundefs mutter in their iair-
The wind, with loud increasing roar.
Hangs The dread sky with darkness Ger,
And swift the raging bilows come,
White with their crowns Of maddened foam
And fast the leaping skifr drives on,
Uprising on q wave anon,
Then plunging To the gaping deep
Like mortals to eternal sleep.
Darker than Egypt was the night
While lehtnings flash upon the sight
With dazzling brightness. and the thunder
Loud bellows from some dark cloud under.
But hark! that still small voic again
Is heard amid the wrath full plain:
Like an aeolian rich end clear
Is the mysterious voice thear
And pregnant with meaning untold
OF that far realm revered of old,
II whispers Of the spirit laad
Words mortal ne'er can understand.
Thus ever as the day is gone
And the dark night comes stealing on,
Ry friends surrounded, or alone,
Upon the lake or mountains cone,
II matters not, for still hear
The same voice wlispe ring in my ear;
Trembling. yet ,tilly clear, it sings
The same uuutterable things
That angel, tnlk of and adore,
To mortal hidden ever more.
aye, tneres voice IN nature hldden,
Cresps o'er the soul oft times unbidden--
Each misty vapor beats message;
or tn unknown future some slight presage
Comes breathing from the cloud capped noun
tain,
Comes trembling from the bursting fountain,
Is whispered fr IN the woody hills,
And mnrmured from their sparkling rills,
Sighed in the tree tops by the breeze,
And thundered from the raging seas:
Old winter with his snowy chill,
The wild winds whistle. cold and shrill
the black couds flying sv iflly by,
The thunders rumblng in the sky,
The rolling oceans deep-toned roar,
The white waves dashing on the shore,
Old Vulcan $ heaven piercing cone
With burning clouds and seas upthrown,
Speak volumes of eternal might,
Yet still IN all that idden sprite
Still tremblingly and silent, sings
The same unutterable things
That take place in ih. realm divine
Adored aud surg of by the Nine.
Soft words full oft that voice hath spoken
OF tender ties that death hath broken,
or vows Of friendship lone since plighted,
There once again 10 he united.
Then with an eye To that bright sphere,
Still guided by the voice hear,
Urged onward ~ the awful might
OF that mtId, restless. deathless sprte
Nature nth bor"e in every cline,
ri graIl cwith the strifes of time,
And onward, upward, urge my way
To higher sphere and bre ter day;
Then rcunite the tics Of yure
And fricndshIps WrCathS tWine eyermore