Oh, her heart’s adrift with one On an endless voyage gone! Night and morning Hannah’s at the window binding shoes. - Lucy Larcom

This is a haunted world. It hath no breeze But is the echo of some voice beloved: Its pines have human tones; its billows wear The color and the sparkle of dear eyes. Its flowers are sweet with touch of tender hands That once clasped ours. All things are beautiful Because of something lovelier than themselves, Which breathes within them, and will never die. — Haunted,—but not with any spectral gloom; Earth is suffused, inhabited by heaven.

If the world seems cold to you, kindle fires to warm it.

Richer am I than he who owns Great fleets and argosies; I have a share in every ship Won by the inland breeze, To loiter on yon airy road Above the apple-trees. I freight them with my untold dreams; Each bears my own picked crew; And nobler cargoes wait for them Than ever India knew, — My ships that sail into the East Across that outlet blue.