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.