I4 8 CARES I HAVE NOT.
What if I held the quivering warp Of life throughout Broadway ;
Must keep each single thread from harm Where countless shuttles play ;
Must blindly guide the shifting woof
With only mortal sight, Which sees the wrong side of the work,
Never on earth, the right ?
What if I had the care of eyes, To keep them winking true,
So mote, with freight of agony,
Their guards could ne er go through?
What if there had been left to me
The beating of one heart, From tiny throbs of baby-life
Till soul from flesh should part?
What if it were my daily work To keep all shadows right To shorten them at fervid noon, And lay them up at night,
So that the tiniest blade of grass
Might not neglected be, But have its slender shadow too,
As well as cloud or tree ?
What if I had the solemn care Of all the shining stars,