How Much Must I Own

How much must I own to be free— A ring of gold, a single key? The stars are mine each cloudless night, The wind is mine in silent flight. I do not ask for halls of stone, Nor call a crowded place my own; A quiet room, a skyward tree, And that, I think, is wealth to me. The sea has never asked for more Than moonlight touching its pale shore, And birds that nest in eaves at dawn Know nothing rich but being drawn. Let others count their silks and land, I'll take a candle in my hand— A song to sing, a soul to keep, A place to cry, a place to sleep. And someone’s name I softly say Before the dark takes me away.