It’s good the great green earth to roam,

Where sights of awe the soul inspire;

But oh, it’s best, the coming home,

The crackle of one’s own hearth-fire!

You’ve hob-nobbed with the solemn Past;

You’ve seen the pageantry of kings;

Yet oh, how sweet to gain at last

The peace and rest of Little Things!


Perhaps you’re counted with Great;

You strain and strive with mighty men;

Your hand is on the helm of State;

Colossus-like stride…and then

There comes a pause, a shining hour,

A dog that leaps, a hand that clings:

O Titan, turn from pomp and power;

Give all your heart to Little Things.


Go couch you childwise in the grass,

Believing it’s some jungle strange,

Where mighty monsters peer and pass,

Where beetles roam and spiders range,

‘Mid gloom and gleam of leaf and blade,

What dragons rasp their painted wings!

O magic world of shine and shade!

O beauty land of Little Things!


I sometimes wonder, after all,

Amid this tangled web of fate,

If what is great may not be small,

And what is small may not be great!

So wondering I go my way,

Yet in my ear contentment sings…

O may I ever see, I pray,

God’s grace and love in Little Things.


So give to me, I only beg,

A little roof to call my own,

A little cider in the keg,

A little meat upon the bone;

A little garden by the see,

A little boat that dips and swings…

Take wealth, take fame, but leave to me,

O Lord of Life, just Little Things.