A Trodden daisy, from the sward,
  With tearful eye I took,
And on its ruined glories I,
  With moving heart, did look;
For, crushed and broken though it was,
  That little flower was fair;
And oh! I loved the dying bud,
  For God was there!

I stood upon the sea-beat shore,
  The waves came rushing on;
The...