OUR KINSMAN.
Alive in this world of beautiful forms,
No form is alien to men, or apart,
Each morning sunbeam our being warms,
Each tree is a kinsman of friendly heart.
We love the clear bird songs that fill our ear
With melody ringing for us alone.
The cricket’s chirp is for us, and we hear
A human voice in the rivulet’s tone.
Each lovely thing of nature finds room