AT home the youthful Francis prayed: "Give me not wealth galore, Unless, sweet Lord, thou givest too A love of Thine own poor. But, Lord, I still would ask of Thee Those other riches fair— Of Thy choice grace which Thou alone With Saints art wont to share. I would not Lord nor wouldst Thou have That after loving Thee, I raze from out my heart all thought Of poor humanity. There was a sacred bush of old Wrapped round with flaring fire, Nor yet with all the flames' white heat Did it consume the briar. So, Lord, send to my frigid heart The love flame from above, But do not from my human heart Expel all human love." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BEAN-STALK by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE SUN'S TRAVELS by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 57. AL-HAMID by EDWIN ARNOLD AN EASTER HYMN by THOMAS BLACKBURN SNOW IN APRIL by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE WANDERER: 3. IN ENGLAND: MATRIMONIAL COUNSELS by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON TO ---, ON HER OBSERVING THAT ST. VALENTINE'S DAY WAS HER BIRTHDAY by JOHN CHALK CLARIS AN ANSWER TO A COPY OF VERSES SENT ME TO JERSEY by ABRAHAM COWLEY |