Pleasures lie thickest, where no pleasures seem; <br />There's not a leaf that falls upon the ground <br />But holds some joy, of silence or of sound, <br />Some sprite begotten of a summer dream. <br /> <br />The very meanest things are made supreme <br />With innate ecstasy. No grain of sand <br />But moves a bright and million-peopled land, <br />And hath its Eden, and its Eves I deem. <br /> <br />For Love, though blind himself, a curious eye <br />Hath lent me, to behold the hearts of things, <br />And touched mine ear with power. Thus far or nigh, <br />Minute or mighty, fixed, or free with wings, <br />Delight from many a nameess covert sly <br />Peeps sparkling, and in tones familiar sings.<br /><br />Samuel Laman Blanchard<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hidden-joys/
