A palace richly furnished is the mind,
In whose fair chambers we may walk at will;
And in its cloistered calm, serene and still,
Continual delight and comfort find.
Not only fretful cares we leave behind,
But restless happiness, and hopes that fill
The eager soul with too much light, until
Eyes dazzled see less wisely than the blind.
So perfect is the joy we find therein,
No pleasures of the outer world compare
With the divine repose so gladly sought;
When from the wearying world we turn to win
High mental solitude, and cherish there
Silent companionship with lofty thought.