I do not ask for any crown
But that which all may win,
Nor seek to conquer any world,
Except the one within.
Be Thou my Guide until I find,
Led by a tender hand,
Thy happy kingdom in _myself_,
And dare to take command.


FOOTNOTES:

[20] From Louisa M. Alcott's _Life, Letters and Journals_.




PICCOLA[21]


Poor, sweet Piccola! Did you hear
What happened to Piccola, children dear?
'Tis seldom Fortune such favour grants
As fell to this little maid of France.

'Twas Christmas-time, and her parents poor
Could hardly drive the wolf from the door,
Striving with poverty's patient pain
Only to live till summer again.