God, though this life is but a wraith, <br />Although we know not what we use, <br />Although we grope with little faith, <br />Give me the heart to fight—and lose. <br /> <br />Ever insurgent let me be, <br />Make me more daring than devout; <br />From sleek contentment keep me free, <br />And fill me with a buoyant doubt. <br /> <br />Open my eyes to visions girt <br />With beauty, and with wonder lit— <br />But always let me see the dirt, <br />And all that spawn and die in it. <br /> <br />Open my ears to music; let <br />Me thrill with Spring's first flutes and drums— <br />But never let me dare forget <br />The bitter ballads of the slums. <br /> <br />From compromise and things half done, <br />Keep me with stern and stubborn pride; <br />And when at last the fight is won, <br />God, keep me still unsatisfied.<br /><br />Louis Untermeyer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/prayer-110/
