LARK'S song dropped from heaven,
A rose's breath at noon;
A still, sweet stream that flows and flows
Beneath a still, sweet moon:
A little way - side flower
Plucked from the grasses, thus!
A sound, a breath, a glance—and yet
What is't they bring to us?
For the world grows far too wise,
And wisdom is but grief:
Much thought makes but a weary way,
And question, unbelief.
Thank God for the bird's song,
And for the flower's breath!
Thank God for any voice to wake
The old sweet hymn of faith!
For a world grown all too wise,
(Or is't not wise enough)?
Thank God for anything that makes
The path less dark and rough!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem