When sparrows build and the leaves break forth, My old sorrow wakes and cries.
And bitter waxed the fray; Brother with brother spake no word When they met in the way.
Her face betokened all things dear and good, The light of somewhat yet to come was there Asleep, and waiting for the opening day, When childish thoughts, like flowers would drift away.
A healthful hunger for a great idea is the beauty and blessedness of life.
And old affront will stir the heart Through years of rankling pain.
Youth! youth! how buoyant are thy hopes; they turn, Like marigolds, toward the sunny side.
