Youth! youth! how buoyant are thy hopes! they turn, like marigolds, toward the sunny side.
Children bring their own love with them when they come.
When sparrows build and the leaves break forth My old sorrow wakes and cries.
O fateful flower beside the rill- The Daffodil, the daffodil!
You moon, have you done something wrong in heaven / That God has hidden your face?
It is a comely fashion to be glad; Joy is the grace we say to God.