free-verse33 lines

Within my House

First, there's the entrance, narrow, and so small,

The hat-stand seems to fill the tiny hall;

That staircase, too, has such an awkward bend,

The carpet rucks, and rises up on end!

Then, all the rooms are cramped and close together;

And there's a musty smell in rainy weather.

Yes, and it makes the daily work go hard

To have the only tap across a yard.

These creaking doors, these draughts, this battered paint,

Would try, I think, the temper of a saint,

How often had I railed against these things,

With envies, and with bitter murmurings

For spacious rooms, and sunny garden plots!

Until one day,

Washing the breakfast dishes, so I think,

I paused a moment in my work to pray;

And then and there

All life seemed suddenly made new and fair;

For, like the Psalmist's dove among the pots

(Those endless pots, that filled the tiny sink!),

My spirit found her wings.

"Lord" (thus I prayed), "it matters not at all

That my poor home is ill-arranged and small:

I, not the house, am straitened; Lord, 'tis I!

Enlarge my foolish heart, that by-and-by

I may look up with such a radiant face

Thou shalt have glory even in this place.

And when I trip, or stumble unawares

In carrying water up these awkward stairs,

Then keep me sweet, and teach me day by day

To tread with patience Thy appointed way.

As for the house . . . . Lord, let it be my part

To walk within it with a perfect heart."