Press "Enter" to skip to content


From the Rock Island Argus, April 28, 1913.
 By S. E. Kiser.

 This glad world was not made for me,
     The brook would sing upon its way,
 The fragrant blossoms grace the tree,
     The squirrels in the branches play,
 If I should sink to nothingness,
     And never know again or care;
 But being here, I may possess
     All that is good and sweet and fair.
 I may be gladdened by the song
     With which the lark begins the day;
 To me the woodland joys belong,
     The blossoms that bestrew my way;
 The beauty of the towering cliff
     I may behold with ecstasy;
 I see and hear—what matter if
     This fair world was not made for me?

Comments are closed.

Mission News Theme by Compete Themes.