Enough

Men there be who lose their days Toiling after empty praise, All they do they count as vain Should the world their work disdain; If I hear but praise from thee, That is praise enough for me.

Shall I flatter high or low Fearful lest I make a foe? Shall I sorrow without end For the falseness of a friend?-- If I win but love from thee, That is love enough for me.

Other worlds afar may rise Somewhere under other skies, Other worlds and fairer still-- Sail and seek them they that will! Wheresoe’er I walk with thee There is world enough for me.

Wiser men than I may say Heaven is high and far away, Or may prove with reasonings rare Heaven is neither here nor there; Here where thou art, I with thee, This is heaven enough for me.