January 1952
Contentment
One small piece of earth have I -
Wooded hill, soft meadow, azure lake and sky
And when the stars look down in alien disdain
I do not yearn to conquer their terrain.
Let that be for those restless souls
For whom life sets its unobtainable goals.
The heart-throb of a swallow's wings
A leaf's reincarnation through each resurgent spring -
This is my mortal happiness
The briefest touch of wind my spirit's warm caress
Oh, men may search forever the unknown
To find the pulsing peace that I now own.