SINCE, Lord, to thee A narrow way and little gate Is all the passage, on my infancie Thou didst lay hold, and antedate My faith in me. O let me still Write thee great God, and me a childe: Let me be soft and supple to thy will, Small to myself, to others milde, Behither ill. Although by stealth My flesh get on; yet let her sister My soul bid nothing, but preserve her wealth: The growth of flesh is but a blister; Childhood is health. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRELUDE TO A FAIRY TALE by EDITH SITWELL TWO SONGS OF A FOOL: 2 by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS THE COCK AND THE FOX, OR THE TALE OF THE NUN'S PRIEST by GEOFFREY CHAUCER THE RAILWAY TRAIN by EMILY DICKINSON THE TWO MYSTERIES by MARY ELIZABETH MAPES DODGE WINTER RAIN by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI |