❝ The Dew and the Bird
There is more glory in a drop of dew,
That shineth only for an hour,
Than there is in the pomp of earth’s great Kings
Within the noonday of their pow’r.
There is more sweetness in a single strain
That falleth from a wild bird’s throat,
At random in the lonely forest’s depths,
Than there’s in all the songs that bards e’er wrote.
Yet men, for aye, rememb’ring Caesar’s name,
Forget the glory in the dew,
And praising Homer’s epic let the lark’s
Song fall unheeded from the blue.
All the While
Let mankind fight and jower
Over creeds decayed or new;
Deny that God had power,
That the Holy Book is true,
The birds are singing all the while,
And grass is growing mile on mile. ❞