Shake from my habitual Resting,
All my Notions of loss and Decrease,
Fill, instead, my Heart with Laughter,
With Mirth and Joy that Rarely Cease.
Contemplate this State of mine,
In sad, contracted sighs and woe,
Lift me to the Hills of Light,
This Seed of Joy to Jubilantly Sow.
And When in Shadow misery comes,
Raise up a Lilting Song with my Voice,
That Narrow Thoughts Find no resort,
While with Every Jocund Step I Rejoice.
Seeds image found at: ecotoysblog.com
Seedlings Image found at: cevreve.com