XIII.

"Oh Father, Father!" thus she prayed:
"Thou know'st the priceless boon I seek!
Before my life, abashed, dismayed,
I stand, with hopeless hands and weak,
Of him and of myself afraid!

"Teach me and lead me where to find,
Beyond the touch of hand and lip,
That vital charm of heart, and mind
Which, in a true companionship,
My feebler life to his shall bind!

"His ladder leans upon the sun:
I cannot climb it: give me wings!
Grant that my deeds, divinely done,
May be appraised divinest things,
Though they be little every one.

"His stride is strong; his steps are high
May not my deeds be little stairs
That, counted swift, shall keep me nigh,
Till at the summit, unawares,
We stand with equal foot and eye?

"If further down toward Nature's heart
His root is struck, commanding springs
In whose deep life I have no part,