Joanna Baillie

Dear Agnes, gleam'd with joy and dash'd with tears,
O'er us have glided almost sixty years
Since we on Bothwell's bonny braes [hills] were seen,
By those whose eyes long closed in death have been,
Two tiny Imps, who scarcely stoop'd to gather
...The slender harebell, or the purple heather ;
No taller than the foxglove's spikey stem,
That dew of morning studs with silvery gem
Then every butterfly that cross'd our view
With joyful shout was greeted as it flew,
And moth and lady-bird and beetle bright
In sheeny gold were each a wondrous sight.
Then as we paddled barefoot side by side,
Among the sunny shallows of the Clyde,
Minnows or spotted par with twinkling fin,
Swimming in mazy rings the pool within,
A thrill of gladness through our bosoms sent,
Seen in the power of early wonderment."

[Lines to her sister Agnes on her birthday]

This says it all about that mind of wonderment that is too precious to ever lose for anything.