What little things are those That hold our happiness! A smile, a glance, a rose Dropped from her hair or dress; A word, a look, a touch, These are so much, so much. An air we can't forget; A sunset's gold that gleams; A spray of mignonette, Will fill the soul with dreams More than all history says, Or romance of old days. For of the human heart, Not brain, is memory; These things it makes a part Of its own entity; The joys, the pains whereof

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