THE WANT-AD OF MY SOUL
Should gossip drop around to claim my hospitality.
May I not send him forth again but bid him stop with me.
And if I have to fore-flush, Lord, to keep up with the brood
Of Fortune’s darlings, then give me the eagle’s solitude.
Make this almighty me to know that as I trudge along,
Perhaps once in ten thousand times I’m likely to be wrong;
And that by some miraculous, unprecedented flight
Of lucky stars that shelter him, my neighbor may be right.
Forbid it that my soul grow stale—let me not be defiled
Nor cloyed with surfeit—let me keep the ardor of a child.
Give me imagination, Lord, to see the unseen things—
To know the yonder, far-off feel that comes when some bird sings.
Help me to square with all the best traditions of my clan—
Make me, oh Lord, a regular, real, bang-up, manly man.
[64]
THE BELL
T AM a cat and I am cruel!
But beautiful! My fur Is soft. I have deep amber eyes And a most pleasing purr.
I am a plaything for a child To pinch or squeeze or pull Or to adore with soft caress,
For I am beautiful.
I am a cat and I am cruel!
The upper Nile knew me,
Roaming and wild. Then hunters came, I was no longer free.
For Egypt had great granaries,
So came a plague of rats,
They held us sacred like their gods For Egypt needed cats.
I am a cat. Since Pharaoh’s day I am what men call tame,
But deep in me the lust for gore Is lurking just the same.
[65]
