My heart must be a mirror of the earth.

My heart must be a mirror of the earth,
for when I see a rose one grows inside
and, gazing round at springtime’s spreading birth,
my heart bursts with broad fields and steep hillsides.

And when I see high waves assault the shore,
I feel, inside, the same resounding roar
and when I see the river rushing free,
I feel the same wild waters run through me.

But, when I see man’s lethal traps and snares,
my heart feels trapped and strangled by despair
and, when I see smog suffocated skies,
around my heart, black clouds begin to rise.

Thank nature for the cheery, chirping thrush;
for I hear his song echo in my breast.
Thank nature for Sunsets palette and brush
for, at sunset, my heart lies down to rest.