I THANK God when I kneel to pray That mine is still the middle way, Set in a safe and sweet estate Between the little and the great; Not troubled with wealth's cares nor yet Too poor, where needs that cark and fret Push out sweet leisure and green nooks, And give no chance for talk and books. I take my middle way between The mansion and a lodging mean. My cottage at the country's edge Hath sweetbriar growing in its hedge, Honesty, heartsease, and sweet-peas, Herb-Benet, love-in-idleness. Give me a tree, a well, a hive, And I can save my soul alive Yet be as poor in spirit as The Poverello's Lady was. I covet not soft silk or lace Nor any lovely lady's face; Nor yet would go in hodden grey; But lawns and wool be my array. I still may ask a friend to dine And set him meat and pour him wine; Nor count the coins within my purse To see that I am nothing worse. I thank God that my middle place Is set amid such pleasantness, And not too high and not too low The safe, untroubled path I go. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE RED TURTLENECK by KAREN SWENSON WILLOW POEM by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS WRITTEN FOR MY SON, AND SPOKEN BY HIM AT HIS FIRST PUTTING ON BREECHES by MARY BARBER EVENING HYMN by REGINALD HEBER HOW THE CUMBERLAND WENT DOWN [MARCH 8, 1862] by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL SONGS by RICHARD HENRY STODDARD |