Chapter 13

A PRAYER.

I meant to have but modest needs, Such as content, and heaven; Within my income these could lie, And life and I keep even.

But since the last included both, It would suffice my prayer But just for one to stipulate, And grace would grant the pair.

And so, upon this wise I prayed, — Great Spirit, give to me A heaven not so large as yours, But large enough for me.

A smile suffused Jehovah's face; The cherubim withdrew; Grave saints stole out to look at me, And showed their dimples, too.

I left the place with all my might, — My prayer away I threw; The quiet ages picked it up, And Judgment twinkled, too,

That one so honest be extant As take the tale for true That "Whatsoever you shall ask, Itself be given you."

But I, grown shrewder, scan the skies With a suspicious air, — As children, swindled for the first, All swindlers be, infer.

XIV.

The thought beneath so slight a film Is more distinctly seen, — As laces just reveal the surge, Or mists the Apennine.

XV.

The soul unto itself Is an imperial friend, — Or the most agonizing spy An enemy could send.

Secure against its own, No treason it can fear; Itself its sovereign, of itself The soul should stand in awe.

XVI.

Surgeons must be very careful When they take the knife! Underneath their fine incisions Stirs the culprit, — Life!