Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
Rudyard Kipling. b. 1865865. A Dedication
MY new-cut ashlar takes the light | |
Where crimson-blank the windows flare; | |
By my own work, before the night, | |
Great Overseer, I make my prayer. | |
If there be good in that I wrought, | 5 |
Thy hand compell’d it, Master, Thine; | |
Where I have fail’d to meet Thy thought | |
I know, through Thee, the blame if mine. | |
One instant’s toil to Thee denied | |
Stands all Eternity’s offence; | 10 |
Of that I did with Thee to guide | |
To Thee, through Thee, be excellence. | |
Who, lest all thought of Eden fade, | |
Bring’st Eden to the craftsman’s brain, | |
Godlike to muse o’er his own trade | 15 |
And manlike stand with God again. | |
The depth and dream of my desire, | |
The bitter paths wherein I stray, | |
Thou knowest Who hast made the Fire, | |
Thou knowest Who hast made the Clay. | 20 |
One stone the more swings to her place | |
In that dread Temple of Thy worth— | |
It is enough that through Thy grace | |
I saw naught common on Thy earth. | |
Take not that vision from my ken; | 25 |
O, whatsoe’er may spoil or speed, | |
Help me to need no aid from men, | |
That I may help such men as need! |