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Buttercups and daisies

Are these human flowers!

He who gave them hardships

And a life of care,

Gave them likewise hardy strength

And patient hearts to bear.

Mary Howitt

SOME MURMUR WHEN THEIR SKY IS CLEAR

Some murmur when their sky is clear,

And wholly bright to view,

If one small speck of dark appear

In their great heaven of blue.
And some with thankful love are filled,
If but one streak of light,

One ray of God's good mercy, gild
The darkness of their night.

In palaces are hearts that ask,
In discontent and pride,
Why life is such a dreary task,

And all good things denied.
And hearts in poorest huts admire
How love has in their aid

(Love that not ever seems to tire)

Such rich provision made.

Richard Chevenix Trench

DUTY

So nigh is grandeur to our dust,

So near is God to man,

When Duty whispers low "Thou must,"

The youth replies, "I can."

Ralph Waldo Emerson

TO A CHILD

Small service is true service while it lasts:

Of humblest friends, bright creature! scorn not one: The daisy, by the shadow that it casts,

Protects the lingering dewdrop from the sun.

William Wordsworth

WRITTEN IN A LITTLE LADY'S LITTLE ALBUM

Hearts good and true

Have wishes few

In narrow circles bounded,

And hope that lives

On what God gives

Is Christian hope well founded.

Small things are best;

Grief and unrest

To rank and wealth are given;

But little things

On little wings

Bear little souls to heaven.

Frederick William Faber

A FAREWELL

My fairest child, I have no song to give you;
No lark could pipe to skies so dull and gray:
Yet, if you will, one quiet hint I'll leave you
For every day.

I'll tell you how to sing a clearer carol

Than lark who hails the dawn on breezy down;

To earn yourself a purer poet's laurel
Than Shakespeare's crown.

Be good, sweet maid, and let who will be clever; Do noble things, not dream them, all day long: And so make Life, and Death, and that For Ever One grand sweet song.

Charles Kingsley

REEDS OF INNOCENCE

Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,

And he laughing said to me:

"Pipe a song about a lamb!" So I piped with merry cheer. "Piper, pipe that song again;" So I piped: he wept to hear.

"Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy cheer!" So I sang the same again,

While he wept with joy to hear.

"Piper, sit thee down and write In a book that all may read." So he vanished from my sight;

And I plucked a hollow reed,

And I made a rural pen,

And I stained the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear.

William Blake

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