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...AN EGYPTIAN PULLED GLASS BOTTLE IN THE SHAPE OF A FISH by MARIANNE MOORE ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY by ALEXANDER POPE BOB CRUIKSHANKS by ALEXANDER ANDERSON THE MONITOR by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE TO THE LEANAN SIDHE (FAIRY MUSE) by THOMAS BOYD |