Safely here, within four walls
Of livine green, I have the sun
Upon a tree, and when it palls ,
The shadows quiet leaves have spun.
A butterfly heeds some alarm
And skips to settle on my arm;
A trusting wren is here to greet
Me, breakfasting beneath my feet.
Riches are not of one kind.
Each must choose. So, like the bee,
Within my walls of green I find
A peace that great men envy me!
by Ray Romine Sunday, March 26, 1950
