Are you not much better than they
The fowls of the air and the beast of the field
Does God not care for them each day?
Yes, and also the lilies of the field. ...
Sometimes, to solace my sad heart, I say,
Though late it be, though lily-time be past,
Though all the summer skies be overcast,
Haply I will go down to her, some day,
And cast my rests of life before her feet,
That she may have her will of me, being so sweet
And none gainsay!