Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.

A famous man is Robin Hood, The English ballad-singer's joy.

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

In this sequestered nook how sweet To sit upon my orchard seat And birds and flowers once more to greet. . . .

A light to guide, a rod To check the erring, and reprove.

We bow our heads before Thee, and we laud, And magnify thy name Almighty God! But man is thy most awful instrument, In working out a pure intent.

Delight and liberty, the simple creed of childhood.