To Nature - By Samuel Taylor Coleridge

It may indeed be phantasy: when I
  Essay to draw from all created things
  Deep, heartfelt, inward joy that closely clings;
  And trace in leaves and flowers that round me lie
  Lessons of love and earnest piety.
  So let it be; and if the wide world rings
  In mock of this belief, it brings
  Nor fear, nor grief, nor vain, perplexity.
  So will I build my altar in the fields,
  And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be,
  And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields
  Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee,
  Thee only God! and thou shalt not despise
  Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice.

1820.