Albert

Nay, I have none of these, And yet have more than all which thou hast named. I have a father, whose unsullied name No tongue has ever spoken with reproach, A mother, whose idea is with me A holy thing, and a dear sister, who Is fair as pure, and pure as is the snow Upon the summit of the tallest peak Of these my native mountains. I have health, And strength, and food, and raiment, and employ, And should I not then have a joyous heart?