"Not to Myself Alone"

"Not to myself alone,"
The little opening flower transportd cries;
"Not to myself alone I bud and bloom;
With fragrant breath the breezes I perfume,
And gladden all things with my rainbow dyes.
The bee comes sipping, every eventide,
His dainty fill;
The butterfly within my cup doth hide
From threatening ill."

"Not to myself alone,"

The circling star with honest pride doth boast;
"Not to myself alone I rise and set;
I write upon night's coronal of jet
His power and skill who formed our myriad host;
A friendly beacon at heaven's open gate,
I gem the sky,
That man might ne'er forget, in every fate,
His home on high,"

"Not to myself alone,"
The heavy-laden bee doth murmuring hum;
"Not to myself alone, from flower to flower,
I rove the wood, the garden, and the bower,
And to the hive at evening weary come:
For man, for man, the lucious food I pile
With busy care,
Content if he repay my ceaseless toil
With scanty share."

"Not to myself alone,"
The soaring bird with lusty pinion sings;
"Not to myself alone I raise my song;
I cheer the drooping with my warbling tongue,
And bear the mourner on my viewless wings;
I bid the hymnless churl my anthems learn,
And God adore;
I call the wordling from his dross to turn,
And sing and soar."

"Not to myself alone,"
The streamlet whispers on its pebbly way,
"Not to myself alone I sparkling glide;
I scatter health and life on every side,
And strew the fields with herb and flow'ret gay;
I sing unto the common, bleak and bare,
My gladsome tune;
I sweeten and refresh the languid air
In droughty June."

"Not to myself alone:"
O man, forget thou not,—earth's honored priest,
Its tongue, its soul, its life, its pulse, its heart—
In earth's great chorus to sustain thy part!
Chiefest of guests at Love's ungrudging feast,
Play not the niggard; spurn thy native clod,
And self disown;
Live to thy neighbor; live unto thy God;
Not to thyself alone!