Whoever saw a garden grow,
Or watched a robin build her nest,
Or lingered in the flaming glow
Of sunset blazing in the West;
Whoever walked the fruitful plain,
And saw the green stalks reach, and swell,
And ripen to a field of grain
Knows earth is full of miracle.
Whoever wandered in the wood,
And rambled down its aisle of dreams,
Or sought the orchard path, or stood
Where falls the murmur of a stream;
Whoever watched a cloudland wild,
Or sensed the twilight’s gentle spell,
Or prattled with a little child
Knows life is full of miracle.