Kismet
QUIET, my heart! My brain must be
Untroubled by your anxious pain.
I must be laboring patiently
To-day, to-morrow, oft again.
Quiet, my heart, by day, for night
Shakes me with all your wild affright.
Let Lois live, though crippled sore
For life. O God, incline, I pray,
Thy will to this which I implore!
And let me earn our bread each day!
Quiet, my heart,—thy terror lies!
It cannot be that Lois dies!
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