Grant, O Olympian gods supreme,

Not my wish, and not my dream;

Grant me neither gold that shines,

Nor ruddy copper in the mines,

Nor power to wield the tyrant’s rod

And be a fool, and seem a god,

Nor precious robe with jeweled fringe

Splendid with sea-born purple tinge,

Nor silken vest on downy pillow,

Nor hammock hard on heaving billow;

But give all goodly things that be

Good for the whole and best for me.

My thoughts are foolish, blind and crude;

Thou only knowest what is good.