MY WORLD.
"What a resource," said the ill-fated Marie Antoinette, "amid the casualties of life, is a well-cultivated mind. One can then be one's own companion and find society in one's own thoughts."
I have a world, a beauteous world,
A world that's all my own;
Ne'er jarred is its soft harmony
By one discordant tone.
A world that's all my own;
Ne'er jarred is its soft harmony
By one discordant tone.
Here cluster round me beings fair,
Bright, living forms of grace;
From earth they come, yet hath there shone
Heaven's light on every face.
Bright, living forms of grace;
From earth they come, yet hath there shone
Heaven's light on every face.
Heart joined to heart, hand clasped in hand,
On tireless feet we roam;
An angel's bliss doth o'er me steal
In my sweet Eden home.
On tireless feet we roam;
An angel's bliss doth o'er me steal
In my sweet Eden home.
When purpose high inspires the breast,
And life hath noble aim,
Lips ne'er need breathe a secret sigh
For honor, wealth, or fame.
And life hath noble aim,
Lips ne'er need breathe a secret sigh
For honor, wealth, or fame.
