Thy winged seeds, whereof the winds take care, 55
    Are like the words of poet and of sage
      Which through the free heaven fare,
    And, now unheeded, in another age
    Take root, and to the gladdened future bear
    That witness which the present would not heed, 60
      Bringing forth many a thought and deed,
    And, planted safely in the eternal sky,
    Bloom into stars which earth is guided by.

    Full of deep love thou art, yet not more full
    Than all thy common brethren of the ground, 65
      Wherein, were we not dull,
    Some words of highest wisdom might be found;
    Yet earnest faith from day to day may cull
    Some syllables, which, rightly joined, can make
      A spell to soothe life’s bitterest ache, 70
    And ope Heaven’s portals, which are near us still,
    Yea, nearer ever than the gates of Ill.

    How like a prodigal doth nature seem,
    When thou, for all thy gold, so common art! 
      Thou teachest me to deem 75
    More sacredly of every human heart,
    Since each reflects in joy its scanty gleam
    Of Heaven, and could some wondrous secret show,
      Did we but pay the love we owe,
    And with a child’s undoubting wisdom look 80
    On all these living pages of God’s book.

    But let me read thy lesson right or no,
    Of one good gift from thee my heart is sure: 
      Old I shall never grow
    While thou each, year dost come to keep me pure 85
    With legends of my childhood; ah, we owe
    Well more than half life’s holiness to these
      Nature’s first lowly influences,
    At thought of which the heart’s glad doors burst ope,
    In dreariest days, to welcome peace and hope. 90

MY LOVE

    Not as all other women are
      Is she that to my soul is dear;
    Her glorious fancies come from far,
    Beneath the silver evening-star,
      And yet her heart is ever near. 5

    Great feelings hath she of her own,
      Which lesser souls may never know;
    God giveth them to her alone,
    And sweet they are as any tone
      Wherewith the wind may choose to blow. 10

    Yet in herself she dwelleth not,
      Although no home were half so fair;
    No simplest duty is forgot,
    Life hath no dim and lowly spot
      That doth not in her sunshine share. 15

    She doeth little kindnesses,
      Which most leave undone, or despise;
    For naught that sets one heart at ease,
    And giveth happiness or peace,
      Is low-esteemed in her eyes. 20

    She hath no scorn of common things,
      And, though she seem of other birth,
    Round us her heart entwines and clings,
    And patiently she folds her wings
      To tread the humble paths of earth. 25