If He Sees Not

 

If he sees not the springtime green,
If he hears not the birds’ sweet song,
If he goes without having seen
The beauty of that feathered throng;
If he knows not the joy of flowers,
The busy humming of the hive,
He is a spendthrift of the hours
A base intruder in these bowers,
And has no right to be alive.

1925