---

James Whitcomb Riley - Ike Walton`s Prayer
Work rating: Low

I crave, dear Lord, 
     No boundless hoard 
     Of gold and gear, 
          Nor jewels fine, 
          Nor lands, nor kine, 
Nor treasure-heaps of anything.- 
          Let but a little hut be mine 
     Where at the hearthstore I may hear 
               The cricket sing, 
          And have the shine 
     Of one glad woman`s eyes to make, 
     For my poor sake, 
          Our simple home a place divine;- 
Just the wee cot-the cricket`s chirr- 
Love, and the smiling face of her. 

I pray not for 
Great riches, nor 
     For vast estates, and castle-halls,- 
     Give me to hear the bare footfalls 
          Of children o’er 
          An oaken floor, 
     New-risen with sunshine, or bespread 
     With but the tiny coverlet 
     And pillow for the baby’s head; 
And pray Thou, may 
The door stand open and the day 
     Send ever in a gentle breeze, 
     With fragrance from the locust-trees, 
          And drowsy moan of doves, and blur 
     Of robin-chirps, and drove of bees, 
          With afterhushes of the stir 
     Of intermingling sounds, and then 
          The good-wife and the smile of her 
     Filling the silences again- 
               The cricket’s call, 
                    And the wee cot, 
               Dear Lord of all, 
                    Deny me not! 

     I pray not that 
     Men tremble at 
          My power of place 
               And lordly sway, - 
     I only pray for simple grace 
     To look my neighbor in the face 
          Full honestly from day to day- 
     Yield me this horny palm to hold, 
               And I’ll not pray 
                    For gold;- 
The tanned face, garlanded with mirth, 
It hath the kingliest smile on earth- 
The swart brow, diamonded with sweat, 
Hath never need of coronet. 
                    And so I reach, 
                         Dear Lord, to Thee, 
                    And do beseech 
                         Thou givest me 
The wee cot, and the cricket’s chirr, 
Love, and the glad sweet face of her.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.