Emily Dickinson (1830–86). Complete Poems. 1924. |
Part One: Life
XXXIX
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| I MEANT to have but modest needs, | |
| Such as content, and heaven; | |
| Within my income these could lie, | |
| And life and I keep even. | |
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| But since the last included both, | 5 |
| It would suffice my prayer | |
| But just for one to stipulate, | |
| And grace would grant the pair. | |
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| And so, upon this wise I prayed,— | |
| Great Spirit, give to me | 10 |
| A heaven not so large as yours, | |
| But large enough for me. | |
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| A smile suffused Jehovah’s face; | |
| The cherubim withdrew; | |
| Grave saints stole out to look at me, | 15 |
| And showed their dimples, too. | |
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| I left the place with all my might,— | |
| My prayer away I threw; | |
| The quiet ages picked it up, | |
| And Judgment twinkled, too, | 20 |
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| That one so honest be extant | |
| As take the tale for true | |
| That “Whatsoever you shall ask, | |
| Itself be given you.” | |
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| But I, grown shrewder, scan the skies | 25 |
| With a suspicious air,— | |
| As children, swindled for the first, | |
| All swindlers be, infer. | |
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