A Prayer
O You, whose loving laws designedThe knots that men and women hold,Lord of the hearth and home, be kindTo all who chafe in bands of gold –
Poor fools who walk staid roads and craveThe high, bird-travelled sky above,Who want the things they dare not haveAnd have the things they will not love.
From The House Without a Door. Reprinted with permission of Kathleen Forsythe, Cogswell's literary executor. Back to Selected Poems