Temptation came to me today,
And oh, I felt that I must stray
Down primrose paths, forgetting all. . . .
The city's fevered, siren call
Spoke to my soul, its whispered cry
Said, "Live, for Youth, too soon, will die!"

So all alone, when work was done,
I sought the park. The setting sun
Had left a bit of warmth for me --
I found a bench beneath a tree,
And sat and thought.
My life is hard,
Sometimes my heart seems battle-scarred,
With longings keen, and bitter fears,
And want, and suffering, and tears.

Temptation spoke, and Youth spoke back;
The night seemed cold and grimly black,
And every light was like a star
That cleft the sky -- they were so far,
So very far away! And I
Was lonely, there, beneath the sky. . . .

There used to be a little farm
A tiny place, remote from harm;
There used to be a mother frail
And sweet, with hair as silver-pale
As the faint moon. She heard me say
The words when first I learned to pray. . . .