Arthur V. Kent

IT is but a little thing to see beauty where dream abounds,

And an easy thing to set sail for the shore in restful seas,

And who may not be as the note of a song ’mid tuneful sounds?

Yea, small things, these.

And hope is a lightsome guest when the mind is arrayed in stars,

And a pleasant task it is to thank God for a granted prayer.

And the scales that are builded to weigh but the sun-shaft bars

Have hands of air.

But I, even I who am speaking, would be as the steadfast pine

That clings to a barren rock in the teeth of the whistling wind;

For everlasting reclothing itself with a new green sign—

Nor look behind.