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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.

by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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