O fateful flower beside the rill - The Daffodil, the daffodil!

It is not reason which makes faith hard, but life.

I have lived to thank God that all my prayers have not been answered

When sparrows build and the leaves break forth My old sorrow wakes and cries.

The moon looks upon many night flowers; the night flowers see but one moon.

And old affront will stir the heart Through years of rankling pain.