The Higher Brotherhood

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To come in touch with mysteries
  Of beauty idealizing Earth,
  Go seek the hills, grown old with trees,
  The old hills wise with death and birth.

  There you may hear the heart that beats
  In streams, where music has its source;
  And in wild rocks of green retreats
  Behold the silent soul of force.

  Above the love that emanates
  From human passion, and reflects
  The flesh, must be the love that waits
  On Nature, whose high call elects

  None to her secrets save the few
  Who hold that facts are far less real
  Than dreams, with which all facts indue
  Themselves approaching the Ideal.

© Madison Julius Cawein