Man Is The Miracle In Nature. God

A Birthday:-and Now A Day That Rose With Much Of Hope, With Meaning Rife- A Thoughtful Day From Dawn To Close: The Middle Day Of Human Life.

O Woman! Thou Wert Fashioned To Beguile: So Have All Sages Said, All Poets Sung.

And Bitter Waxed The Fray; Brother With Brother Spake No Word When They Met In The Way.

What Is Thy Thought? There Is No Miracle? There Is A Great One, Which Thou Hast Not Read, And Never Shalt Escape. Thyself, O Man, Thou Art The Miracle. Ay, Thou Thyself, Being In The World And Of The World, Thyself, Hast Breathed In Breath From Him That Made The World. Thou Art Thy Father's Copy Of Himself,-- Thou Art Thy Father's Miracle.

When I Remember Something Which I Had, But Which Is Gone, And I Must Do Without, I Sometimes Wonder How I Can Be Glad, Even In Cowslip Time When Hedges Sprout; It Makes Me Sigh To Think On It,--but Yet My Days Will Not Be Better Days, Should I Forget.