Not in the solitude
Alone may we commune with Heaven,
or see Only savage wood And sunny vale, the present Deity;
Or only hear its voice
Where the winds whisper and the waves rejoice.
Even here do I behold Thy steps, Almighty! - here, amidst the crowd,
Through the great city rolled, With everlasting murmur deep and loud -
Choking the ways that wind
'Mongst the proud piles, the work of humankind.
William Cullen Bryant, 1794 - 1878