A WONDERFUL man
From a beautiful land
Where things are just as they seem
Took passage one day
In a very queer way
To a country made out of a dream.

Now in this new country
He wore a strange guise
As everyone else did, you see.
And try as he would
He never quite could
Be just as he wanted to be.

For the people would meet
As they passed on the street
In this very queer land of the mask.
They looked at him too,
And yet never knew
That he was a friend with a mask.

They looked at the mask
But never did ask
About the real man struggling within.
For no one thought
That the garment thus wrought
Was the discolored garment of sin.

So the friends from above,
United by love
And the bonds of the one parenthood,
For many a day
Their ignorant way
Passed on all unmindful of good.

There’s a beautiful land,
O very real land,
And it shines with a splendid light;
Its a very dear land
And a very near land,
And it beckons back thru the night.

There no man weeps
And no man sleeps
The sleep of the dark unknown;
Each plays his part
With a gallant heart
And all injustice long has flown.
—Laura Collins.

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