Few have borne unconsciously the spell of loveliness.

Through the open door A drowsy smell of flowers -grey heliotrope And white sweet clover, and shy mignonette Comes fairly in, and silent chorus leads To the pervading symphony of Peace.

So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn Which once he wore; The glory from his gray hairs gone For evermore!

And step by step, since time began, I see the steady gain of man.

Round the boles of the pine-wood the ground-laurel creeps, Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of showers, With buds scarcely swelled, which should burst into flowers!

Yet, in the maddening maze of things, And tossed by storm and flood, To one fixed trust my spirit clings; I know that God is good!

All the windows of my heart I open to the day.