My Kingdom ~ Louisa May Alcott

My Kingdom
 

 Louisa May Alcott
 

 Sitting to-day in the sunshine, 
 That touched me with fingers of love, 
 I thought of the manifold blessings
 God scatters on earth, from above; 
 And they seemed, as I numbered them over, 
 Far more than we merit, or need, 
 And all that we lack is the angels
 To make earth a heaven indeed.
 The winter brings long, pleasant evenings, 
 The spring brings a promise of flowers
 That summer breathes to fruition, 
 And autumn brings glad, golden hours.
 The woodlands re-echo with music, 
 The moonbeams ensilver the sea; 
 There is sunlight and beauty about us, 
 And the world is as fair as can be.
 But mortals are always complaining, 
 Each one thinks his own a sad lot; 
 And forgetting the good things about him, 
 Goes mourning for those he has not.
 Instead of the star-spangled heavens, 
 We look on the dust at our feet; 
 We drain out the cup that is bitter, 
 Forgetting the one that is sweet.
 We mourn o’er the thorn in the flower, 
 Forgetting its odour and bloom; 
 We pass by a garden of blossoms, 
 To weep o’er the dust of the tomb.
 There are blessings unnumbered about us, –
 Like the leaves of the forest they grow; 
 And the fault is our own – not the Giver’s –