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cares this morning when I rose
 * Seemed mountainous. I had no joy

In what the long hours might disclose—
 * The tasks that should my powers employ.

Within my heart lurked gnawing pain,
 * Hard duty stared me in the face—

How much of life we live in vain,
 * How dull the round and commonplace!

But in my garden where I stepped
 * I saw the flowering grasses fair,

Feathery, delicate, wind-swept,
 * Swaying in simple beauty there:

And presently a little child.
 * Whose wondering face was like a shrine,

Lifted untroubled eyes and smiled
 * With sudden happiness to mine.