A child would have his toy,
And a man would have his girl;
As brides must have their joy,
And god must have a world.
They're things that, made for each of us,
As though our name were printed;
And don't forget love, peace and trust,
By which our life gets tinted.
Though I think, we'd live on love
Alone; if things were short supply'd-
And just a slit, of bluest sky-
And breadth, of a lover's sigh.