The great world—let it go—

June warmth be March's snow,

I care not—be it so

Since I am here.

Time was when war's alarm

Called for a fear,

When sorrow's seeming harm

Hastened a tear;

Naught care I now what foe

Threatens, for scarce I know

How the year's seasons go

Since I am here.

[Pg 32]

This is my resting-place

Holy and dear,

Where Pain's dejected face

May not appear.

This is the world to me,

Earth's woes I will not see

But rest contentedly

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