To the Daughter of Bernard Barton, the Quaker Poet

Happy thou art, the child of one
Who in each lowly flower,
Each leaf that glances to the sun,
Or trembles with the shower;

In each soft shadow of the sky,
Or sparkle of the stream,
Will guide thy kindling spirit’s eye
To trace the Love Supreme.

So shall deep quiet fill thy breast,
A joy in wood and wild;
And e’en for this I call thee blest,
The gentle poet’s child!