There are some quiet ways—
  Ay, not a few—
Where the affections grow,
  And noble days
  Distil a gentle praise
  That, as cool dew,
  Or aromatic gums
  Within a bower,
  In after-times becomes
  A calm, perennial dower.

There wayside bush and briar!
  These lend a grace,
Flashing a glad assent...