It is a comely fashion to be glad; Joy is the grace we say to God.
The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.
O fateful flower beside the rill- The Daffodil, the daffodil!
I am glad to think I am not bound to make the world go right, but only to discover and to do, with cheerful heart, the work that God appoints.
Youth! youth! how buoyant are thy hopes! they turn, like marigolds, toward the sunny side.
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.