IF I have faltered more or less
In my great task of happiness;
If I have moved among my race
And shown no glorious morning face;
If beams from happy human eyes
Have moved me not; if morning skies,
Books, and my food, and summer rain
Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:-
Lord, thy most pointed pleasure take
And stab my spirit broad awake;
Or, Lord, if too obdurate I,
Choose thou, before that spirit die,
A piercing pain, a killing sin,
And to my dead heart run them in.
The Celestial Surgeon
Robert Louis Stevenson
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Poem topics: food, happiness, happy, pain, rain, summer, pleasure, human, great, face, choose, heart, spirit, morning, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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