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Sane
They’re all of them crazy but you, dear, and me; They’re scrambling to gather up riches, to see How the world would appear from a high stack of pelf, And they sacrifice everything; sacrifice self, Sacrifice health, and their body and soul, And they rob and they cheat and they lie, just to roll Up a few more hard dollars; how hard they will know When they’re summoned to leave, and they drop them to go.
They are all raving mad except you, dear, and me; Their dollars bar them out of pleasures that we Make an every-day part of out lives, yours and mine; We ramble afield, and, where glory vines twine, We sit; and the river slips by at our feet, And your eyes laugh to mine, and I think, dear, how sweet The world is and you are, and, dear, I’m so glad That we see the world right and that we are not mad! That we see the world right, dear; the poplars are tall By a pool that we know of, and mocking-birds call From the shadows to us, and we call to them, too, And they scold us and mock us and make a to-do, As if they were furious; their scolding then blends In a laugh and a whistle; it’s that way with friends Who see the world, right, as you do, dear, and me, And as the birds do from their perch in the tree.
They say, “Money talks;” why, its talk is a croak! Does it laugh, does it sing, does it lilt, does it joke As the treasures we get out of life do, and sing Till the world seems dew-spangled and red blossoms swing Down low? Does it comfort the stricken and ill? Why, the song of the creek and the lone whippoorwill Is sweeter than anything money can buy! They are all of them crazy except you and I!
Our treasures? Just yesterday we met a chap Who was down on his luck, and I gave him a slap On the shoulder, and you, dear, you gave him a smile, And he looked and he laughed, and the flight is worth while To that fellow today. Were we rich—had we thrown
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