THE CELESTIAL SURGEON
by: Robert Louis Stevenson
 F I have faltered more or less
- In my great task of happiness;
- If I have moved among my race
- And shown no glorious morning face;
- If beams from happy human eyes
- Have moved me not; if morning skies,
- Books, and my food, and summer rain
- Knocked on my sullen heart in vain:--
- Lord, thy most pointed pleasure take
- And stab my spirit broad awake;
- Or, Lord, if too obdurate I,
- Choose thou, before that spirit die,
- A piercing pain, a killing sin,
- And to my dead heart run them in!
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'The Celestial Surgeon' is reprinted
from An Anthology of Modern Verse. Ed. A. Methuen. London:
Methuen & Co., 1921. |
MORE POEMS BY STEVENSON |
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