There shall be eternal summer in the grateful heart.

No sadder sound salutes you than the clear, wild laughter of the loon

I wonder what spendthrift chose to spill
Such a bright gold under my windowsill!
Is it fair gold? Does it glitter still?
Bless me! It's a daffodil!

Take that Poppy seed, for instance: it lies in your palm, the merest atom of matter, hardlyvisible, a speck, a pin's point in bulk, but within it is imprisoned a spirit of beauty ineffable, which will break its bonds and emerge from the dark ground and blossom in a splendor so dazzling as to baffle all powers of description.

The sunrise never failed us yet

Across the narrow beach we flit, One little sand-piper and I; And fast I gather, bit by bit. The scattered drift-wood, bleached and dry, The wild waves reach their hands for it. The wild wind raves, the tide runs high, As up and down the beach we flit, One little sand-piper and I.