Music, and Other Poems

VI

             These are the gifts I ask
             Of thee, Spirit serene:
             Strength for the daily task,
             Courage to face the road,
     Good cheer to help me bear the traveller's load,
     And, for the hours of rest that come between,
     An inward joy in all things heard and seen.
             These are the sins I fain
             Would have thee take away:
             Malice, and cold disdain,
             Hot anger, sullen hate,
     Scorn of the lowly, envy of the great,
     And discontent that casts a shadow gray
     On all the brightness of the common day.

             These are the things I prize
             And hold of dearest worth:
             Light of the sapphire skies,
             Peace of the silent hills,
       Shelter of forests, comfort of the grass,
       Music of birds, murmur of little rills,
       Shadow of clouds that swiftly pass,
             And, after showers,
             The smell of flowers
         And of the good brown earth,—
     And best of all, along the way, friendship and mirth.

                So let me keep
         These treasures of the humble heart
       In true possession, owning them by love;
       And when at last I can no longer move
         Among them freely, but must part
       From the green fields and from the waters clear,
                Let me not creep
       Into some darkened room and hide
       From all that makes the world so bright and dear;
                But throw the windows wide
                To welcome in the light;
       And while I clasp a well-beloved hand,
                Let me once more have sight
       Of the deep sky and the far-smiling land,—
                Then gently fall on sleep,
     And breathe my body back to Nature's care,
     My spirit out to thee, God of the open air.