Classic Poem

This day, I think, will be a common day,
Devoid of venture, risk or thrill or show;
Eight working hours, plodding in a row
Like lagging sheep, whose herder I must be —
And You, who made me, know I hate such days!

I can face danger or the press of haste,
Cruel shock or sudden uproar and alarm,
Or I can laugh and play the merry clown,
Or act a part to mask some desperate need —
But something limps in me when days are dull.

And so I ask Your help this common day.
Help me keep sweet when there is none to see;
Help me be patient though there be no praise,
And brave without the spotlight or applause,
And honest, in the secret, unseen acts.

Dear Friend, whom I can feel but cannot see,
Help me today.

This day, I think, will be a common day,
Devoid of venture, risk or thrill or show;
Eight working hours, plodding in a row
Like lagging sheep, whose herder I must be —
And You, who made me, know I hate such days!

I can face danger or the press of haste,
Cruel shock or sudden uproar and alarm,
Or I can laugh and play the merry clown,
Or act a part to mask some desperate need —
But something limps in me when days are dull.

And so I ask Your help this common day.
Help me keep sweet when there is none to see;
Help me be patient though there be no praise,
And brave without the spotlight or applause,
And honest, in the secret, unseen acts.

Dear Friend, whom I can feel but cannot see,
Help me today.