The lion's cub :: :: University of Virginia Library

If gracious smiles are met with smiles,
And who would meet them otherwise?
And tender words persuade the heart,
Till tears, kept back, unbidden start
In dry and unfamiliar eyes:

If acts of courtesy like these,
The common coin of every day,
Pass current everywhere, and make
So many richer for their sake,
For none can be too poor to pay:

What shall be, can be, said for those
Who greater gifts their whole lives long
Receive without acknowledgment,
Receive, perhaps, with discontent,
Without a thankful word, or song?

Time was they were not, now they are;
A Power by them unseen, unknown,
Produced them, not to die like flowers,
Poor pensioners of summer hours,
For they remain, though years are flown.

From nothingness to conscious Life,
That feels itself if nought beside,
And straightway all it sees demands,
Perpetually puts forth its hands
To take, and will not be denied;

That such a creature, selfish, frail,
One-half whose days are passed in sleep,
Watched over by maternal eyes,
Which, when its small breath comes in sighs,
Tremble, and ready are to weep:

That childhood should in manhood end
Is strange as childhood just begun.
Why did he live? He might have died.
What made Death's arrows glance aside?
The Power of Life and Death in one.

This he perceives not, or forgets,
For now because he lived he lives;
He has his raiment, and his food,
Accepts what comes, and finds it good,
And never thinks of Him who gives.

Something he sought he may have missed,
Or in his heart, or in his brain;
Fame, power, wealth, love. If so, what then?
Blot all these from the lives of men,
Still Man, and Life, and Earth remain.

The sun still rises as of gold;
The stars and planets shine on high;
The great Sea laughs; clouds come and go;
Rains fall; birds sing; the sweet flowers blow;
And fragrant is the west wind's sigh.

O Earth, thou art a goodly world!
And who deny, if such there be,
The Power that placed them here, should own,
Thou Symbol of that Power Unknown,
Their endless gratitude to thee!

They breathe the airs that stir thy trees;
Thy sunshine is their constant light;
Without thy harvests they would die,
Their sustenance and sole supply;
They lie, and slumber in thy Night.

But say thou art no more, O Earth!
Than we behold from day to day,
An Inn, we travellers, thou at least
Hast spread us many a bounteous feast
And comforted upon the way!

We thank thee, and through thee the Host,
Who has provided of His best,
And housed us so we hate to go;
For we can never hope to know
More watchful care, more perfect rest.