 | Later Poems |  |
54
A Choice
If I might choose one gift God's hand could yield,
What would I crown my life withal to-day?
With love, or gold, or fame, or absolute sway,
Or beauty such as women's who have thrilled
Men's souls and senses till no more they willed
With their own wills, but only must obey?
Or would I choose to have my mother-clay
Lapping me round, whose pain at last were stilled?
What would I crown my life withal to-day?
With love, or gold, or fame, or absolute sway,
Or beauty such as women's who have thrilled
Men's souls and senses till no more they willed
With their own wills, but only must obey?
Or would I choose to have my mother-clay
Lapping me round, whose pain at last were stilled?
What would I choose, and what would I forgo?
Would all desire go up in that swift cry,
Were it one little minute's space, to know
God's love which passeth knowledge, verily;
And, ere the glory fadeth off, to die?
Would God, that I were sure of choosing so!
Would all desire go up in that swift cry,
Were it one little minute's space, to know
God's love which passeth knowledge, verily;
And, ere the glory fadeth off, to die?
Would God, that I were sure of choosing so!
| Later Poems | |