"The lovingkindness of the Lord fills the whole earth..." ~Psalm 33:15

‘T is heaven alone that is given away,
‘T is only God may be had for the asking;
There is no price set on the lavish summer,
And June may be had by the poorest comer.

"Light dawns for the righteous and joy for the upright in heart." ~ Psalm 97:11

And what is so rare as a day in June?
Then, if ever, come perfect days;
Then Heaven tries the earth if it be in tune,
And over it softly her warm ear lays:
Whether we look, or whether we listen,
We hear life murmur, or see it glisten;

Magdalen ("Maudie") at her morning post

Every clod feels a stir of might,
An instinct within it that reaches and towers,
And, grasping blindly above it for light,
Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers;
The flush of life may well be seen
Thrilling back over hills and valleys;

the bounty of the henhouse

The cowslip startles in meadows green,
The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice,
And there ‘s never a leaf or a blade too mean
To be some happy creature’s palace;

"Then man goes out to his work, to his labor until evening." ~Psalm 104:23

The little bird sits at his door in the sun,
Atilt like a blossom among the leaves,
And lets his illumined being o’errun
With the deluge of summer it receives;
His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings,
And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings;
He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,–
In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best?

"How many are Your works, O Lord! in wisdom You made them all; the earth is full of Your creatures." ~Psalm 104:24

Now is the high-tide of the year,
And whatever of life hath ebbed away
Comes flooding back, with a ripply cheer,
Into every bare inlet and creek and bay;
Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it,
We are happy now because God so wills it;
No matter how barren the past may have been,
‘T is enough for us now that the leaves are green;

"Let the morning bring me word of Your unfailing love..." ~Psalm 143: 8

We sit in the warm shade and feel right well
How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell;
We may shut our eyes, but we cannot help knowing
That skies are clear and grass is growing;
The breeze comes whispering in our ear,
That dandelions are blossoming near,
That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,
That the river is bluer than the sky,
That the robin is plastering his house hard by;

"He makes grass to grow for the cattle, and plants for man to cultivate--bringing forth food from the earth." ~Psalm 104: 14

For other couriers we should not lack;
We could guess it all by yon heifer’s lowing,–
And hark! how clear bold chanticleer,
Warmed with the new wine of the year,
Tells all in his lusty crowing!

mesclun frame

Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how;
Every thing is happy now,
Every thing is upward striving;
‘T is as easy now for the heart to be true
As for grass to be green or skies to be blue,–

zucchini, gaura and pole beans

‘T is the natural way of living:
Who knows whither the clouds have fled?
In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake;
And the eyes forget the tears they have shed,
The heart forgets its sorrow and ache;

the morning's harvest

The soul partakes the season’s youth,
And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe
Lie deep ‘neath a silence pure and smooth,
Like burnt-out craters healed with snow.

from The Vision of Sir Launfal by James Russell Lowell