The world's so full of dear things,
Of nice things, and queer things,
Girls with curls,
Peacocks and pearls;
There is morning dew,
Hoar frost too,
And little homey near things.
There are vine-hung walls,
And vaulted halls
Where Dons march to and fro;
And far up there,
A cross in air
Where wheeling starlings go.
There are blackbirds,
And redbirds,
And butterflies and bees;
There is flowering almond,
In the spring,
And green-striped tulip-trees.
There are autumn leaves,
And rainbows,
And white clouds floating high,
Cool green waves,
'Bove coral caves,
And white ships sailing by.
There are winter's snows
Where holly grows,
And pine trees, straight and tall.
The world's so full of dear things,
Of nice things and queer things,
How can I leave them all?
__Louisa Cooke Don-Carlos
