Explore "Appreciation" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
They prize not most the opulence of June / Who from the year's beginning to its close / Dwell, where unfading verdure tireless grows, / And where sweet summer's harp is kept in tune. / We must have listened to the winter's rune, / And felt impatient longings for the rose, / Ere its full radiance on our vision glows, / Or with its fragrant soul, we can commune.
Not they most prize life's blessings, and delights, / Who walk in safe and sunny paths alway. / But those, who, groping in the darkness, borrow / Pale rays from hope, to lead them through the night, / And in the long, long watches wait for day. / He knows not joy who has not first known sorrow.