For Little Things

Last night I looked across the hills And through an arch of darkling pine Low-swung against a limpid west I saw a young moon shine. And as I gazed there blew a wind, Loosed where the sylvan shadows stir, Bringing delight to soul and sense The breath of dying fir. This morn I saw a dancing host Of poppies in a garden way, And straight my heart was mirth-possessed And I was glad as they. I heard a song across the sea As sweet and faint as echoes are, And glimpsed a poignant happiness No care of earth might mar. Dear God, our life is beautiful In every splendid gift it brings, But most I thank Thee humbly for The joy of little things.