A “A COMMONPLACE life,” we say, and we sigh; But why should we sigh as we say? The commonplace sun in the commonplace sky, Makes up the commonplace day; The moon and the stars are commonplace things, And the flower that blooms, and the bird that sings: But dark were the world and sad our lot If the flowers failed and the sun shone not; And God, who studies each separate soul, Out of commonplace lives makes his beautiful whole. |