But Evil Is Wrought By Want Of

Peace And Rest At Length Have Come, All The Day's Long Toil Is Past; And Each Heart Is Whispering, "home, Home At Last!"

Tis Like The Birthday Of The World, When Earth Was Born In Bloom; The Light Is Made Of Many Dyes, The Air Is All Perfume: There's Crimson Buds, And White And Blue, The Very Rainbow Showers Have Turned To Blossoms Where They Fell, And Sown The Earth With Flowers.

But Evil Is Wrought By Want Of Thought, As Well As Want Of Heart!

When Was Ever Honey Made With One Bee In A Hive?

I Remember, I Remember The Fir-trees Dark And High; I Used To Think Their Slender Tops Were Close Against The Sky; It Was A Childish Ignorance, But Now 't Is Little Joy To Know I'm Farther Off From Heaven Than When I Was A Boy.