William Ellery Channing (1818–1901)

WITHIN the unpainted cottage dwell

The spirits of serene content,

As clear as from its moss-grown well

Rises the crystal element.

Above, the elm, whose trunk is scarred

With many a dint of stormy weather,

Rises, a sumptuous screen, debarred

Of nothing that links life together.

Our common life may gratify

More feelings than the rarest art,

For nothing can aspire so high

As beatings of the human heart.

O! value then thy daily cheer,

Poor pensioner on nature’s store,

And clasp the least, and hold most dear

What seemeth small, and add the more.