Page:Ballads of a Bohemian.djvu/85

Rh

, June 1914.

Up into the sky I stare; All the little stars I see; And I know that God is there O, how lonely He must be!

Me, I laugh and leap all day, Till my head begins to nod; He’s so great, He cannot play: I am glad I am not God.

Poor kind God upon His throne, Up there in the sky so blue, Always, always all alone… “Please, dear God, I pity You.”