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.

Lucy Maud Montgomery