Deny me not!

I pray not that
Men tremble at
My power of place
And lordly sway--,
I only pray for simple grace
To look my neighbor in the face
Full honestly from day to day--
Yield me his horny palm to hold.
And I'll not pray
For gold--;
The tanned face, garlanded with mirth,
It hath the kingliest smile on earth;
The swart brow, diamonded with sweat,
Hath never need of coronet.
And so I reach,
Dear Lord, to Thee,
And do beseech
Thou givest me
The wee cot, and the cricket's chirr,
Love and the glad sweet face of her!


_A Rough Sketch_

I caught, for a second, across the crowd--
Just for a second, and barely that--
A face, pox-pitted and evil-browed,
Hid in the shade of a slouch-rim'd hat--