The world is a beautiful place 
                                                           to be born into 
if you don’t mind happiness 
                                             not always being 
                                                                        so very much fun 
       if you don’t mind a touch of hell
                                                       now and then
                just when everything is fine
                                                             because even in heaven
                                they don’t sing 
                                                        all the time

             The world is a beautiful place
                                                           to be born into
       if you don’t mind some people dying
                                                                  all the time
                        or maybe only starving
                                                           some of the time
                 which isn’t half so bad
                                                      if it isn’t you

      Oh the world is a beautiful place
                                                          to be born into
               if you don’t much mind
                                                   a few dead minds
                    in the higher places
                                                    or a bomb or two
                            now and then
                                                  in your upturned faces
         or such other improprieties
                                                    as our Name Brand society
                                  is prey to
                                              with its men of distinction
             and its men of extinction
                                                   and its priests
                         and other patrolmen
                                                         and its various segregations
         and congressional investigations
                                                             and other constipations
                        that our fool flesh
                                                     is heir to

Yes the world is the best place of all
                                                           for a lot of such things as
         making the fun scene
                                                and making the love scene
and making the sad scene
                                         and singing low songs of having 
                                                                                      inspirations
and walking around 
                                looking at everything
                                                                  and smelling flowers
and goosing statues
                              and even thinking 
                                                         and kissing people and
     making babies and wearing pants
                                                         and waving hats and
                                     dancing
                                                and going swimming in rivers
                              on picnics
                                       in the middle of the summer
and just generally
                            ‘living it up’

Yes
   but then right in the middle of it
                                                    comes the smiling
                                                                                 mortician

                                           

Because my mouth 

Is wide with laughter

And my throat

Is deep with song,

You do not think 

I suffer after 

I have held my pain 

So long. 



Because my mouth 

Is wide with laughter, 

You do not hear

My inner cry, 

Because my feet 

Are gay with dancing, 

You do not know 

I die. 

If you could know the empty ache of loneliness,
          Masked well behind the calm indifferent face
Of us who pass you by in studied hurriedness,
          Intent upon our way, lest in the little space
Of one forgetful moment hungry eyes implore
          You to be kind, to open up your heart a little more,
I’m sure you’d smile a little kindlier, sometimes,
          To those of us you’ve never seen before.

If you could know the eagerness we’d grasp
          The hand you’d give to us in friendliness;
What vast, potential friendship in that clasp
          We’d press, and love you for your gentleness;
If you could know the wide, wide reach
          Of love that simple friendliness could teach,
I’m sure you’d say “Hello, my friend,” sometimes, 
          And now and then extend a hand in friendliness to each.

Unknown to you, I walk the cheerless shore. 

   The cutting blast, the hurl of biting brine, 

May freeze, and still, and bind the waves at war, 

   Ere you will ever know, O! Heart of mine, 

That I have sought, reflected in the blue 

    Of these sea depths, some shadow of your eyes; 

Have hoped the laughing waves would sing of you, 

   But this is all my starving sight descries—

I.

Far out at sea a sail 

    Bends to the freshening breeze, 

Yields to the rising gale, 

    That sweeps the seas; 

II. 

Yields, as a bird wind-tossed, 

    To saltish waves that fling 

Their spray, whose rime and frost

    Like crystals cling

III. 

To canvas, mast and spar, 

   Till, gleaming like a gem, 

She sinks beyond the far

   Horizon’s hem. 

IV. 

Lost to my longing sight, 

    And nothing left to me

Save an oncoming night,—

    An empty sea.