She gave me eyes, she gave me ears; And humble cares, and delicate fears; A heart, the fountain of sweet tears; And love and thought and joy.

The common growth of Mother Earth Suffices me,-her tears, her mirth, Her humblest mirth and tears.

With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.

That mighty orb of song, The divine Milton.

Yet tears to human suffering are due; And mortal hopes defeated and o'erthrown Are mourned by man, and not by man alone.

Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.

How does the Meadow flower its bloom unfold? Because the lovely little flower is free down to its root, and in that freedom bold.