When life looks dull without a moment’s lull,
When the heart feels bleak with no friend to seek,
When selfish, cunning men grab power and reign,
With common sense plain speaking out but in vain,
When sight of our hoary past seems totally lost
In the fast, mad pace of today’s rude rat-race,
When heart’s fond hope hits but a downward slope,
When the hands feel tied against the rotten tide,

I drift into the poet’s world full of simple joys of old-

Where great works of art never fail to touch the heart
Such as the cuckoo’s sweet call heralding the calm of fall,
Or the great bright orb’s rise that melts even hills of ice
And the gentle breeze that makes daisies dance with ease,
Where poor Spartan garb of dress does of nobility impress
And about which such converse is printed in golden verse
Where pride turns humble to fathom the great Truth simple
Where all one does life-long is to sing God’s grand song,

Oh! What a nice great world this, that many of us, alas, miss!