--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Bell, Henry G. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 2 number: 3 published: 1899-01 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Bell, Henry G., "Nature," *Improvement Era* 2, no. 3 (January 1899): 175.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera23unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera23unse start_page: 175 end_page: 175 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1899-01) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera23unse publication_year: 1899 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1899, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # Nature NATURE. I heard a voice, as 'twere of one cast down By bitter agony,—and thus he spake: — "I do impeach thee, Nature! that thou hast In causeless malice made me woe-begone. Thou gavest mind to torture me;—the hopes, By thee first taught to bloom, bloom'd but to fade; The feelings that, like honey in the flower. Imparted to my heart its fragrance, turn To bitterness;—and, haply to keep pace With this vile sinking of my nobler part. My very energies of limb decay. And sadder—feebler than my fellow-men — I grope my way through life,—a friendless ghost. That sits on graves, or stalks among the tombs. Therefore, my voice is raised—I stand erect — And ere I die, I do impeach thee, Nature." He spoke, and there was silence. Then I heard The merry voices of ten thousand birds Who sang their morning paeans to the sun; And through the forest glades the deer awoke, And shook the dew drops from their antler'd brows; And glorious flowers upon the mountain side Drank in the day-light; and in silver streams Gold-mantled fish went darting everywhere; The mighty ocean murmur'd as a child Its mother lulls to rest; the skies look'd down In blue serenity, as if they smiled;— And to the dark impeachment of that man No other answer mighty Nature made. Henry G. Bell.