Nature is a temple where the living pillars
Sometimes babble confused words
Man passes there through forests of symbols
Which observe him with familiar gaze
Like long echos which from far away commingle
In a shadowy and deep unity
Vast like the night and vast like the daylight
The perfumes, the colours and the sounds co-respond
There are perfumes fresh like the flesh of infants
Sweet as oboes, green as the prairies
-- And others corrupt, rich and triumphant
Which have the expansion of infinite things
Like amber, musk, benzoin, and incense
Which sing the transports of the spirit and senses
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