The lines of our lives are twisted and taut,
Our moorings untethered and tossed;
The stress and the strain of each day is bought
With a piece of tranquility lost.
O for a moment alone in the shade
Of an elegant oak or a pine;
To rest on a log in a wooded glade
To untangle these heartstrings of mine.

The competitive edge in a business deal,
And a push to keep up with the Jones;
In a world gone mad with its misguided zeal
To consume my raw flesh with the bones.
O for a moment alone in the heights
With a blanket of stars overhead;
Raptured in awe at the symphonic lights
And the splendor of leaves for my bed.

The jangle of cars on the thoroughfare,
As I rush from hither to yon;
With the daily fetters of worry and care
I could sing the encore of the swan.
O for a moment of quiet and peace
On the banks of a fresh water stream,
Far from the wake of the maddening pace
Where the quest runs away with the dream.