The poem
Nature is a temple where the living pillars Let go sometimes a blurred speech— A Forest of symbols passes through a man's reach And observes him with a familiar regard.
Like the distant echoes that mingle and confound In a unity of darkness and quiet Deep as the night, clear as daylight The perfumes, the colors, the sounds correspond.
The perfume is as fresh as the flesh of an infant Sweet as an oboe, green as a prairie —And the others, corrupt, rich and triumphant
Enlightened by the things of infinity, Like amber, musk, benzoin and incense That sing, transporting the soul and sense.