Mary Botham Howitt - The Sunshine

I love the sunshine everywhere -
In wood, and field, and glen;
I love it in the busy haunts
Of town-imprison'd men.

I love it, when it streameth in
The humble cottage door,
And casts the chequer'd casement shade
Upon the red-brick floor.

I love it, where the children lie
Deep in the clovery grass,
To watch among the twining roots,
The gold-green beetle pass.

I love it, on the breezy sea,
To glance on sail and oar,
While the great waves, like molten glass,
Come leaping to the shore.

I love it, on the mountain-tops,
Where lies the thawless snow;
And half a kingdom, bathed in light,
Lies stretching out below.

Oh! yes, I love the sunshine!
Like kindness, or like mirth,
Upon a human countenance,
Is sunshine on the earth.

Upon the earth - upon the sea -
And through the crystal air -
Or piled-up-clouds - the gracious sun
Is glorious everywhere.

Mary Botham Howitt

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