2 мин
Слушать(AI)For Little Things
Last night I looked across the hills And through an arch of darkling
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.
Lucy Maud Montgomery
Lucy Maud Montgomery OBE (November 30, 1874 – April 24, 1942), published as L. M. Montgomery, was a Canadian author best known for a series of n
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
November Evening
Come, for the dusk is our own; let us fare forth together, With a quiet delight in our hearts for the ripe, still, autumn weather, Through the rustling valley and wood and over the crisping meadow, Under a high-sprung sky, winnowed ...
Spring Song
Hark, I hear a robin calling List, the wind is from the south And the orchard-bloom is
Harbor Dawn
There's a hush and stillness calm and deep, For the waves have wooed all the winds to In the shadow of headlands bold and steep; But some gracious spirit has taken the
The Old Home Calls
Come back to me, little dancing feet that roam the wide world o'er, I long for the lilt of your flying steps in my silent rooms once more; Come back to me, little voices gay with laughter and with song, Come back, little hearts beat...
