The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.
When sparrows build and the leaves break forth, My old sorrow wakes and cries.
Against her ankles as she trod The lucky buttercups did nod.
How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored.
I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.
It is not reason which makes faith hard, but life.
A healthful hunger for a great idea is the beauty and blessedness of life.
And old affront will stir the heart Through years of rankling pain.
Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting for the opening day, When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.
And bitter waxed the fray; Brother with brother spake no word When they met in the way.
Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man.