F those who love us find us true
And kind and gentle, and are glad
When each grim working day is through
To have us near them, why be sad?
If those who know us best rejoice
In what we are and hold us dear,
What matter if the stranger’s voice
Shall speak the bitter jibe and jeer?
If those who cling to us still smile
Though grim misfortune has us down,
If they still think our work worth while,
What matters it if strangers frown?