A healthful hunger for a great idea is the beauty and blessedness of life.
— Jean Ingelow
Against her ankles as she trod The lucky buttercups did nod.
How gently rock yon poplars high Against the reach of primrose sky With heaven's pale candles stored.
The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.
It is not reason which makes faith hard, but life.
And bitter waxed the fray; Brother with brother spake no word When they met in the way.
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.
When sparrows build and the leaves break forth, My old sorrow wakes and cries.
I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered.
And old affront will stir the heart Through years of rankling pain.
Man is the miracle in nature. God Is the One Miracle to man.
