My mind lets go a thousand things,
Like dates of wars and deaths of kings,
And yet recalls the very hour–
‘Twas noon by yonder village tower,
And on the last blue noon in May–
The wind came briskly up this way,
Crisping the brook beside the road;
Then, pausing here, set down its load
Of pine-scents, and shook listlessly
Two petals from that wild-rose tree.
Memory by Thomas Bailey Aldrich
For the beauty of each hour
of the day and of the night,
hill and vale, and tree and flower,
sun and moon, and stars of light;
Lord of all, to thee we raise
this our hymn of grateful praise.
from “For the Beauty of the Earth” by Folliot S. Pierpoint
O Lord, when on thy various works we look,
How richly furnish’d is the earth we tread!
Where in the fair contents of Nature’s book
We may the wonders of thy wisdom read…
from “Psalm CIV” by Henry Wotton 1568 – 1639