Chapter I: HEARD a tiny sound to-day

The flowers all had stopped to pray. Lily, and rose, and goldenrod And violet were thanking God. For what? The sun, and rain, and dew, That had not failed the season through, The soil, the winds with their caress; And simple daily happiness.

I blushed, whose thought had found no wings To thank God for the simple things. No sudden fortune had bestowed On me a rich and golden load. But I had known the rain, the sun, Shelter and rest when day was done, Raiment, and food, and happy hours. I was less thankful than the flowers.

“Whatever he may wish or plan” (1929)

Whatever he may wish or plan, Three things will make or break a man: The work to which he gives his hand, To make a living in the land. The friends to whom his heart gives toll, Whose shadows fall across his soul. The goal by which through toil and strife He gives direction to his life.