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Stephen Vincent Benet - Hands
Work rating: Low

My wife’s hands are long and thin,
Fit to catch a spirit in,
Fit to set a subtle snare
For something lighter than the air.

My brother`s hands are long and fine,
Good at verse and pouring wine,
Good to spend and bad to hoard
And good to hold a singing sword.

My own hands are short and blunt
Being children of affront,
Base mechanics at the most
That have sometimes touched a ghost.
 
I ask between the running sands,
A blessing upon four hands,
And for mine an iron stake
They can do their best to break.

Now God the Son and God the Sire
And God the triple-handed fire,
Make these blessings come to be
Out of your civility
For four hands of courtesy.
Amen.
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