O hope of the world that risest again 

New-born from the clod, 

O life that brightens on meadow and fen 

With the breath of God, 

O daffodils brave whose banners fly 

At the snow's retreat, 

O sweet warm winds of the South that sigh 

O'er the springing wheat, 

O birds that tell in the branches bare 

Of the summer days,— 

Read me your lesson; 

Teach me your prayer; 

Fill my soul with your praise. 

—Sunday Afternoon.