Bathed in the sacred dews of morn The wide aerial landscape spread-- The world which was ere I was born, The world which lasts when I am dead; Which never was the friend of _one_, Nor promised love it could not give. But lit for all its generous sun, And lived itself, and made us live. There let me gaze, till I become In soul, with what I gaze on, wed! To feel the universe my home; To have before my mind--instead Of the sick room, the mortal strife, The turmoil for a little breath-- The pure eternal course of life, Not human combatings with death! Thus feeling, gazing, might I grow Composed, refresh'd, ennobled, clear; Then willing let my spirit go To work or wait elsewhere or here! This solemn love and reverence for the continuous life of the physical universe may remind us that Arnold's teaching about humanity, subtle and searching as it is, has done less to endear him to many of his disciples, than his feeling for Nature. His is the kind of Nature-worship which takes nothing at second-hand. He paid "the Mighty Mother" the only homage which is worthy of her acceptance, a minute and dutiful study of her moods and methods. He placed himself as a reverent learner at her feet before he presumed to go forth to the world as an exponent of her teaching. It is this exactness of observation which makes his touches of local colouring so vivid and so true. This gives its winning charm to his landscape-painting, whether the scene is laid in Kensington Gardens, or the Alps, or the valley of the Thames. This fills _The Scholar-Gipsy_, and _Thyrsis_, and _Obermann_, and _The Forsaken Merman_ with flawless gems of natural description, and felicities of phrase which haunt the grateful memory.