People newly emerged from obscurity generally launch out into indiscriminate display.
I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.
When sparrows build and the leaves break forth My old sorrow wakes and cries.
O fateful flower beside the rill- The Daffodil, the daffodil!
There's no dew left on the daisies and clover; there's no rain left in heaven.
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.