  O Lord, I pray: that for each happiness My housemate brings I may give back no less Than all my fertile will; That I may take from friends but as the stream Creates again the hawthorn bloom adream Above the river sill; That I may see the spurge upon the wall And hear the nesting birds give call to call, Keeping my wonder new; That I may have a body fit to mate With the green fields, and stars, and streams in spate, And clean as clover-dew; That I may have the courage to confute All fools with silence when they will dispute, All fools who will deride; That I may know all strict and sinewy art As that in man which is the counterpart, Lord, of Thy fiercest pride; That somehow this beloved earth may wear A later grace for all the love I bear, For some song that I sing; He had a heart to praise, an eye to see, And beauty was his king. |
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