Works

Give thanks, my soul, for the things that are free!
The blue of the sky, the shade of a tree,
And the unowned leagues of the shining sea.

Be grateful, my heart, for everyman's gold;...

When hills and plains are powdered white,
And bitter cold the north wind blows,
Upon my window in the night
A fairy-garden grows.

Here poppies that no hand hath sown...

Throughout the sunny day he whistled on his way -
Oh high and low, and gay and sweet,
The melody rang down the street,
Till all the weary, old, and grey,
Smiled at their work, or stopped to say,...

When April comes with softly shining eyes,
And daffodils bound in her wind-blown hair,
Oh, she will coax all clouds from out the skies,
And every day will bring some sweet surprise, -...

For thee, my small one - trinkets and new toys,
The wine of life and all its keenest joys,
When Christmas comes.
For me, the broken playthings of the past
That in my folded hands I still hold fast,...