IN the lust of my strength I cursed God, but he paid no attention to me: I might as well have cursed the stars. In my last sickness I was in agony, but I was resolute And I cursed God for my suffering; Still He paid no attention to me; He left me alone, as He had always done. I might as well have cursed the Presbyterian steeple. Then, as I grew weaker, a terror came over me: Perhaps I had alienated God by cursing him. One day Lydia Humphrey brought me a bouquet And it occurred to me to try to make friends with God, So I tried to make friends with Him; But I might as well have tried to make friends with the bouquet. Now I was very close to the secret, For I really could make friends with the bouquet By holding close to me the love in me for the bouquet And so I was creeping upon the secret, but -- | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE MEMORY OF THE BRAVE AMERICANS UNDER GENERAL GREENE by PHILIP FRENEAU WHAT SHALL IT PROFIT? by WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS THE CHURCH OF A DREAM; TO BERNHARD BERENSON by LIONEL PIGOT JOHNSON SONG OF THE BROAD-AXE by WALT WHITMAN A RHYMED REVIEW; 'LAUGHING MUSE' (BY ARTHUR GUITERMAN) by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS PROLOGUE TO DRAMA ..... ANNIVERSARY OF CARRS' MARRIAGE by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |