Linda's Literary Home

Tag: prayer

  • Emily Dickinson’s “I meant to have but modest needs”

    Image: Emily Dickinson - Amherst College - Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 - likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet
    Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet

    Emily Dickinson’s “I meant to have but modest needs”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I meant to have but modest needs” reveals the speaker’s earnest spiritual nature while dramatizing her movement from innocent confidence to wary skepticism regarding the fulfillment of prayer.

    Introduction and Text of “I meant to have but modest needs”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I meant to have but modest needs” consists of six stanzas that trace the speaker’s journey from humble expectation through prayer, apparent heavenly approval, disappointment, and finally mature reflection. The little drama demonstrates the speaker’s ability to mingle gentle humor with profound spiritual inquiry. 

    While the poem entertains with witty irony, it also examines the nature of divine grace, faith, and human expectation. In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s remarkable ability to transform contemplative musing into compelling poetic drama while allowing spiritual questions to remain invitingly open.

    I meant to have but modest needs

    I meant to have but modest needs –
    Such as Content – and Heaven –
    Within my income – these could lie
    And Life and I – keep even –

    But since the last – included both –
    It would suffice my Prayer
    But just for One – to stipulate –
    And Grace would grant the Pair – 

    And so – upon this wise – I prayed –
    Great Spirit – Give to me
    A Heaven not so large as Yours,
    But large enough – for me –

    A Smile suffused Jehovah’s face –
    The Cherubim – withdrew –
    Grave Saints stole out to look at me –
    And showed their dimples – too –

    I left the Place, with all my might –
    I threw my Prayer away –
    The Quiet Ages picked it up –
    And Judgment – twinkled – too –
    That one so honest – be extant –
    It take the Tale for true –
    That “Whatsoever Ye shall ask –
    Itself be given You.”

    But I, grown shrewder – scan the Skies
    With a suspicious Air –
    As Children – swindled for the first
    All Swindlers – be – infer –

    Commentary on “I meant to have but modest needs”

    Emily Dickinson’s “I meant to have but modest needs” portrays a speaker whose simple request gradually becomes an exploration of the relationship between divine promise and human understanding.

    First Stanza: “I meant to have but modest needs”

    I meant to have but modest needs –
    Such as Content – and Heaven –
    Within my income – these could lie
    And Life and I – keep even –

    The speaker begins by insisting that her desires remain quite modest. She claims that she seeks only “Content” and “Heaven.” She has no ambition for wealth, fame, or earthly distinction. Her requests appear entirely reasonable because they concern the peace and happiness of the inner life.

    She then introduces a clever commercial metaphor. The expression “Within my income” likens spiritual blessings to purchases that can be made only if one possesses sufficient means. The speaker imagines that contentment and Heaven should lie comfortably within her spiritual resources.

    The phrase “Life and I – keep even” suggests that the speaker expects a balanced relationship between herself and life. She hopes that life will deal fairly with her and that her modest expectations will be met with corresponding generosity.

    Yet the speaker seems to underestimate the magnitude of her request. Although she believes that contentment and Heaven constitute “modest needs,” each remains beyond the reach of material existence. Lasting contentment cannot be secured through worldly conditions, and Heaven belongs entirely to the realm of Spirit.

    The speaker therefore begins with an assumption that appears simple but proves profound. She regards her request as modest because she values spiritual realities above worldly possessions. Ironically, those spiritual realities become the greatest treasures any soul can desire.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that lasting happiness comes from the soul’s communion with the Divine rather than from external circumstances. Dickinson’s speaker has not yet fully realized that truth, but her instinct already directs her toward those eternal blessings that alone can satisfy the human heart.

    Second Stanza: “But since the last – included both”

    But since the last – included both –
    It would suffice my Prayer
    But just for One – to stipulate –
    And Grace would grant the Pair –

    The speaker now refines her thinking. She realizes that if she receives Heaven, she will necessarily receive contentment also. Heaven must include every blessing that the soul genuinely requires. Therefore, instead of asking for two gifts, she need ask for only one.

    Her reasoning remains beautifully logical. If Heaven already contains perfect peace, requesting contentment separately becomes unnecessary. The speaker concludes that Grace will naturally provide both blessings while granting only one petition.

    The speaker also demonstrates complete confidence in divine goodness. She assumes that Grace delights in giving rather than withholding. Nothing in her thinking suggests doubt that the Divine responds lovingly to sincere prayer.

    The simplicity of her reasoning reveals an innocence that has not yet encountered disappointment. She believes that divine promises operate exactly as they appear. Her faith remains uncomplicated by painful experience or lingering uncertainty.

    The stanza quietly prepares readers for the irony that follows. The speaker’s confidence is sincere, but sincere confidence alone cannot answer every spiritual question. The remaining stanzas will test her assumptions while enlarging her understanding.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that divine wisdom grants what serves the soul’s highest good, even when human beings do not immediately recognize that good. The speaker stands upon the threshold of discovering that the fulfillment of prayer often transcends the expectations of the one who offers it.

    Third Stanza: “And so – upon this wise – I prayed”

    And so – upon this wise – I prayed –
    Great Spirit – Give to me
    A Heaven not so large as Yours,
    But large enough – for me –

    Having reasoned that Heaven embraces every worthy blessing, the speaker proceeds naturally to prayer. Her petition remains strikingly modest. She does not presume to request equality with the Divine but only asks for a portion suited to her own spiritual capacity.

    The expression “Great Spirit” broadens the speaker’s address beyond denominational boundaries while preserving profound reverence. She approaches the Creator with sincerity instead of elaborate ceremony. Her directness reflects confidence that genuine prayer requires honesty more than ornament.

    The request for “A Heaven not so large as Yours” reveals remarkable humility. The speaker acknowledges the immeasurable grandeur of the Divine while recognizing her own finite condition. She seeks neither dominion nor glory, only sufficient spiritual fulfillment to satisfy the soul’s deepest longing.

    Yet the simplicity of the request conceals extraordinary depth. Any authentic Heaven, regardless of size, must partake of eternity. Thus the speaker appears to be asking for that which transcends all earthly limitation. Her modest language veils an infinite aspiration.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that every soul longs to recover its unity with the Infinite because that unity constitutes its true nature. The speaker’s prayer quietly reflects that eternal longing. Although expressed with charming restraint, her petition reaches beyond temporal existence toward lasting spiritual realization.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s tendency to disguise profound metaphysical inquiry beneath conversational language. That technique appears beautifully here. The speaker seems merely to request a comfortable dwelling, while she actually voices the universal desire for permanent union with divine peace.

    Fourth Stanza: “A Smile suffused Jehovah’s face”

    A Smile suffused Jehovah’s face –
    The Cherubim – withdrew –
    Grave Saints stole out to look at me –
    And showed their dimples – too –

    The heavenly response arrives with delightful humor. Rather than thunder, judgment, or solemn pronouncement, the speaker beholds a smile upon Jehovah’s face. The atmosphere immediately becomes one of affection instead of fearful distance.

    Even the Cherubim and Saints participate in the gentle amusement. Their dignified reserve yields to warm delight as they quietly observe the speaker’s earnest request. Dickinson’s customary wit transforms Heaven into a realm where joy naturally accompanies holiness.

    The smiling saints emphasize that genuine sanctity excludes neither kindness nor humor. Their dimples humanize these exalted figures while suggesting that divine wisdom delights in innocent sincerity. The speaker’s prayer has produced no offense. Instead, it awakens heavenly sympathy.

    The speaker herself, however, cannot yet interpret the meaning of those smiles. Are they signs of approval, affectionate indulgence, or recognition that she has asked for more than she realizes? Dickinson wisely leaves that question unresolved, permitting readers their own contemplative musing.

    Paramahansa Yogananda frequently portrays the Divine as infinitely compassionate rather than remote or forbidding. Such a conception harmonizes with the smiling Jehovah. Divine love welcomes the sincere seeker even when that seeker’s understanding remains incomplete.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s remarkable ability to blend reverence with playful imagination. Here, celestial beings remain majestic without sacrificing warmth. The result is a memorable portrait of Heaven as both exalted and intimately accessible.

    Fifth Stanza: “I left the Place, with all my might”

    I left the Place, with all my might –
    I threw my Prayer away –
    The Quiet Ages picked it up –
    And Judgment – twinkled – too –
    That one so honest – be extant –
    It take the Tale for true –
    That “Whatsoever Ye shall ask –
    Itself be given You.”

    The tone shifts dramatically. The speaker departs in haste, casting aside the very prayer she had offered with such confidence. Something has occurred that leaves her unable to retain her former certainty. Innocence begins yielding to painful experience.

    Yet the prayer itself refuses extinction. The “Quiet Ages” preserve it, suggesting that sincere aspiration possesses enduring value regardless of immediate disappointment. Honest petitions continue to live within eternity even when human expectations falter.

    The reference to Judgment “twinkled” tempers solemnity with irony. Dickinson’s speaker avoids portraying divine judgment as harsh condemnation. Instead, it sparkles with knowing wisdom, implying that eternal justice perceives realities hidden from limited human understanding.

    The concluding biblical allusion introduces the central tension. The promise that whatsoever one asks shall be given appears difficult to reconcile with lived experience.  The speaker has encountered the mystery separating literal expectation from spiritual fulfillment.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that divine response always serves the soul’s highest welfare, even when outward circumstances appear contrary to immediate desire. Such teaching illuminates the speaker’s perplexity. The Divine may answer every sincere prayer, but not always according to human anticipation.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s refusal to abandon spiritual inquiry simply because certainty proves elusive. She preserves intellectual honesty while continuing her contemplative musing. That balance between faith and questioning contributes greatly to the enduring power of Dickinson’s poetry.

    Sixth Stanza: “But I, grown shrewder – scan the Skies”

    But I, grown shrewder – scan the Skies
    With a suspicious Air –
    As Children – swindled for the first
    All Swindlers – be – infer –

    The final stanza presents a speaker transformed by experience. She now examines the heavens with suspicion rather than unquestioning confidence. The change is neither cynical nor irreverent. Instead, it reflects the caution that often accompanies spiritual maturity.

    The comparison with children deceived for the first time offers poignant psychological insight. Young minds frequently generalize from one painful disappointment, imagining universal deception where only partial misunderstanding exists. The speaker recognizes that tendency within herself.

    Her admission reveals admirable candor. Rather than disguising uncertainty beneath conventional piety, she acknowledges the struggle to reconcile faith with experience. Such honesty strengthens rather than diminishes the poem’s spiritual authority because it arises from authentic inward observation.

    The speaker does not reject Heaven, prayer, or the Divine. She merely confesses that unquestioning innocence has yielded to reflective discernment. Her faith seeks deeper understanding rather than easy reassurance.

    Paramahansa Yogananda explains that spiritual realization grows through direct experience instead of blind acceptance. The speaker stands precisely at that threshold. Her questions become the means through which superficial belief may mature into genuine wisdom.

    In my earlier essays on Dickinsonian poems, I have discussed the speaker’s extraordinary courage in allowing unresolved tensions to remain visible. She seldom offers simplistic conclusions because authentic contemplative musing rarely ends with effortless certainty. Instead, she leaves readers contemplating the mysterious relationship between divine promise, human expectation, and the soul’s continuing search for eternal truth.

  • Options

    Image: Created by ChatGPT & Grok inspired by the poem
    Image: Created by ChatGPT & Grok inspired by the poem

    Options

    Faces in the wind
    Seeming miles from shore
    A blank page awaits
    Walking fast past the window
    The pane seems real
    As any pain always will
    Slowing down is an option
    But you’d rather get answers
    Than continue to question

    Fleeing is an option
    But a bridge looms large
    As rivers of memories emerge
    Standing is another option
    But the brink seems dangerous
    And a canyon of disdain
    May dismay the heart again

    Leaving the woods
    Is an option
    Faster than crawling over logs
    Seizing the moment seems real
    Until the sunlight pierces the grass
    Then all bets are off and moving goes
    By trees that stand even more still than water
    Turning to ice in the snowy field
    Praying is an option
    Placing your life before the judge
    Allowing your soul to be guarded
    And guided as the weather booms
    And the horizon seems old and worn–
    I will make my bed of leaves, fold my hands
    Calm my heart and mind and the winter
    Storm will not touch my skin

  • Flesh and Desire

    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem
    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem

    Flesh and Desire

    “Humankind cannot bear very much reality.”  —T. S. Eliot

    Into the fire of wisdom, thoughts go to perish.
    “Get thee behind me, Satan!” Christ commands.
    But we still wobble behind the Devil
    Hoping to be snatched from the arms of death
    In time for supper and for the many tomorrows
    We image we still possess.
    In the valley of dreck and poison, I have lived
    Even as I knew better or thought I did.
    No, I am not here to testify.
    Although a word or two of testimony
    May slip out every line or so!
    I can pound sand with the best of them.
    But I can also bitch and moan.
    Where is the beginning of joy and rectitude?
    One might ask.  Where is the promise?
    O, come on!  You know where the promise is . . .
    Yes, just testing the waters and they are warm.
    Every time I delay, I am warned.  Just pray
    And wait and listen close and tight to the hum
    In the brain.  I will follow.  I will follow close.
    Yes, I will.  And flesh with its crude desire
    Will no longer taint the years
    With their distractions.
    The mercy of Spirit will wipe my tears. 

  • Where Soldiers of the Soul Come to Pray

    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem
    Image: Created by Grok inspired by the poem

    Where Soldiers of the Soul Come to Pray

    —after “Who Is in My Temple?”

    The dark rooms of my mind
    Resembled a ramshackle cabin
    Abandoned in the river
    Left to invading rodents,
    Birds building nests in its loft.

    Where did this light come from?
    Who is this that without hands

    Has flipped on the light,
    Cleared out the rodents,
    And caused to scurry all the dim birds
    That long held court in this fluttering space?

    Who has transformed this tumbledown cabin
    Into a fine temple where the soldiers of the soul
    Now come to pray?

  • Emily Dickinson’s “A sepal, petal, and a thorn”

    Image: Emily Dickinson – Amherst College – Daguerrotype of the poet at age 17, circa 1847 – likely the only authentic, extant likeness of the poet

    Emily Dickinson’s “A sepal, petal, and a thorn”

    Emily Dickinson’s short poem, “A sepal, petal, and a thorn,” consists of only one cinquain, but its five lines pack a prayerful punch into its deceptive shortness.

    Introduction and Text of “A sepal, petal, and a thorn”

    Emily Dickinson’s short poem “A sepal, petal, and a thorn” begins as a riddle but concludes by identifying the speaker and subject of her narrative.  The speaker of this cinquain offers a brief description of a special environment observed by a seemingly outside observer.  However, the observer becomes clear when she is named and identified in the final surprising line.

    A sepal, petal, and a thorn

    A sepal, petal, and a thorn
    Upon a common summer’s morn –
    A flask of Dew – A Bee or two –
    A Breeze – a caper in the trees –
    And I’m a Rose!

    Commentary on “A sepal, petal, and a thorn”

    This awe-inspiring little drama demonstrates the poet’s amazing ability to observe fine details and then create finely crafted poems.

    First Movement:  The Crowds of Summer

    A sepal, petal, and a thorn
    Upon a common summer’s morn –

    The speaker begins her announcement by focusing on key elements in a special environment which include the parts of a flowering plant.  Most, if not all flowers, possess a physical part called a “sepal” or the green supporting element that holds the bloom and protects it as it keeps the flower of the plant intact.

    The speaker then adds the important part of the flower called the “petal.”  The petals conjoined make up the distinct flower itself. It provides the particular shape and coloring that each flower affords to offer its beauty to the human eye.

    The speaker then offers what at first seems to be an odd member of this group, when she adds “thorn.” Not many flowers possess thorns, but the mind of the audience is not permitted to dwell upon this odd addition, for the speaker adds the marvelous and pleasurable descriptor involving the time element for her announcement:  it is summer and the speaker frames the time as containing all that has been described, and then she places them together, “[u]pon a common summer’s morn.”

    Thus far, the speaker has offered only two parts of a flowering plant with the addition of the strange and dangerous sounding element, the thorn.  But she has mitigated her simple list by placing those flowering parts at the wonderful time of year known a summer, and further beautified the environment by making it during the early part of the day or “morn[ing].”

    Second Movement:  Unity in Rime

    A flask of Dew – A Bee or two –
    A Breeze – a caper in the trees –

    The second movement of this marvelously simple, yet complicated, narration continues the catalogue-like listing of natural elements:  dew, bee, breeze, trees.  But to her drama she has added a fantastically adept rime-scheme that holds the element fast together in an almost divine unity.

    The “dew” is held in a “flask”; thus she pronounces her creation, “[a] flask of Dew.”  A flask is a simple bottle-like container, usually associated with alcoholic beverages.  The speaker’s employment of such a container instead of “glass” or “cup” quite deliberately contributes to the intoxication of the beauty and unity of such a summer morning, which has motivated the speaker to enumerate the fine details upon which she is concentrating. 

    The second half of this line, “A Bee or two” completes the rime unification that sparks her observation, which yields the intoxication caused by the beauty of the natural elements; therefore, arises, “A flask of Dew – A Bee or two –,” whose pleasurable rime rings in the mind as it presents the image of a couple of bees hovering over a beautiful flowering plant early in the day.

    The second line of the movement presents an almost uncanny repetition of force through its image and rime as the first line:  again, the speaker has created a pleasurable rime that unifies the elements with the sparks of divine unity, “A Breeze – a caper in the trees.”  As “Dew” and “two” offered a perfect riming set, so do “Breeze” and “trees.”

    The second movement then creates a little drama that could almost stand alone because it has offered an image that implies a flower, calling it a “flash of Dew” over which hover a pair of bees, set in an area where a breeze is blowing and whipping up a “caper” in the surrounding trees.  The employment of the term “caper” offers a magically wonderful element of mischief that the speaker infuses into her drama of a simple flower.

    Third Movement:  Rose Reporting

    And I’m a Rose!

    In the final movement, the speaker announces her identity.  She is a “Rose.”  Little wonder that the accuracy and fidelity to detail have been so brilliantly portrayed; it has been the flower herself who is reporting. Unlike so many of Dickinson’s riddle poems in which she never condescends to name the subject of the riddle, this one proudly announces who the speaker is in direct terms.

    After describing her environment of finely crafted elements–sepal, petal, morn, dew, bees, breeze, trees–the speaker then affords her audience the ultimate unity by stating directly and unequivocally who she is.  With this revelation, the mystery of the “thorn” in the first line is solved.

    This masterfully crafted little drama offers the Dickinson canon one of its main features that demonstrate the ability of the poet to observe and create little masterful dramas out of her observations.  Her ability to make words dance as well as fill out images remains a staple in the Dickinson tool-kit of poetic expression.

  • S. Omar Barker’s “A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer”

    Image:  S. Omar Barker – Texas Trail of Fame

    S. Omar Barker’s “A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer”

    S. Omar Barker’s Christmas poem “A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer” features a humble cowpoke, who is not accustomed to praying but is offering his heart-felt supplication at Christmas time.  As he prays, he reveals the qualities and issues of his life that are most important to him.

    Introduction with Text of “A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer”

    This Christmas prayer/poem composed by cowboy poet, S. Omar Barker, allows a humble rider-of-the-range to express his deeply held wishes as he offers a supplication to the Lord for the good of all mankind.  The cowboy prayer is framed as a ballad-style narration emphasizing the simple, humble nature of the cowpoke.

    The ballad-influenced piece plays out in cowboy dialect and  in riming couplets.  Its stanza breaks are uneven with two single-line bridges that dissect the drama at important points to emphasize the shift in theme and tone.

    A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer

    I ain’t much good at prayin’, and You may not know me, Lord —
    For I ain’t much seen in churches, where they preach Thy Holy Word.
    But you may have observed me out here on the lonely plains,
    A-lookin’ after cattle, feelin’ thankful when it rains.

    Admirin’ Thy great handiwork.

    The miracle of the grass,
    Aware of Thy kind Spirit, in the way it comes to pass
    That hired men on horseback and the livestock that we tend
    Can look up at the stars at night, and know we’ve got a Friend.

    So here’s ol’ Christmas comin’ on, remindin’ us again
    Of Him whose coming brought good will into the hearts of men.
    A cowboy ain’t a preacher, Lord, but if You’ll hear my prayer,
    I’ll ask as good as we have got for all men everywhere

    Don’t let no hearts be bitter, Lord.
    Don’t let no child be cold.
    Make easy the beds for them that’s sick and them that’s weak and old.
    Let kindness bless the trail we ride, no matter what we’re after,
    And sorter keep us on Your side, in tears as well as laughter.

    I’ve seen ol’ cows a-starvin’ — and it ain’t no happy sight;
    Please don’t leave no one hungry, Lord, on Thy Good Christmas Night —
    No man, no child, no woman, and no critter on four feet
    I’ll do my doggone best to help you find ’em chuck to eat.

    I’m just a sinful cowpoke, Lord — ain’t got no business prayin’
    But still I hope you’ll ketch a word or two, of what I’m sayin’:
    We speak of Merry Christmas, Lord—

    I reckon You’ll agree —

    There ain’t no Merry Christmas for nobody that ain’t free!
    So one thing more I ask You, Lord: just help us what You can
    To save some seeds of freedom for the future Sons of Man!

    Reading

    Commentary on “A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer”

    S. Omar Barker’s “A Cowboy’s Christmas Prayer” dramatizes the prayer offered by a humble cowboy who is unaccustomed to praying and unacquainted with church services but who holds the blessings from the Creator very dear to his heart.  He expresses his gratitude for the simple life he lives and asks his Creator to bless others with kindness and prosperity.

    First Movement:  A Humble Prayer

    I ain’t much good at prayin’, and You may not know me, Lord —
    For I ain’t much seen in churches, where they preach Thy Holy Word.
    But you may have observed me out here on the lonely plains,
    A-lookin’ after cattle, feelin’ thankful when it rains.

    In the first quatrain, the supplicating cowboy begins by addressing the Lord, suggesting that the Lord may not even be acquainted with the cowboy; he then gives the reasons that he feels the Lord may not know him.  He has not attended church very often, and he knows that’s where they preach His “Holy Word.”

    However, the cowboy then suggests that perhaps the Creator has seen him out on the plains doing his work of watching “after cattle.”  The cowboy adds what he likely feels may be a useful introduction to the Lord Creator:  he has felt thankful for the rain that keeps life supported.

    Second Movement:  A Single-Line Bridge

    Admirin’ Thy great handiwork.

    The cowboy adds another positive feature in his heretofore somewhat tentative relationship with the Almighty: he has always admired the “great handiwork” that he often observes as he rides the range in the great outdoors.

    This line appears alone and emphasizes the important idea that the cowboy has always kept the Creator near to his heart by feeling enthralled by all of what He has created.  The cowboy is likely remembering the wide-open plains, the mountains, the trees, vegetation of the prairie, the night sky full of stars, and the cattle that he himself drives and protects. 

    This single line offers a useful bridge between the moments of prayer that supplicates, as it brings the Divine back into the cowboy’s consciousness.

    Third Movement:   Miracles in Creation

    The miracle of the grass,
    Aware of Thy kind Spirit, in the way it comes to pass
    That hired men on horseback and the livestock that we tend
    Can look up at the stars at night, and know we’ve got a Friend.

    The next quatrain offers a few specific examples of the great Lord’s “handiwork.”  The cowboy first mentions the grass, which he describes as a “miracle.”  He then avers that even as a simply cowpoke he feels the nature of the Lord is kindness.

    And through that “kind Spirit,” he reports that somehow the graceful occasion exists that those hired hands who work riding horseback and tending livestock are able to observe the sky full of “stars at night.”

    The cowboy makes it clear that such a sight fills his heart with gratitude that he and his fellow workers “got a Friend.”  His relationship with the Lord has blossomed even as he admits his tentative relationship with church and prayer.

    Fourth Movement:  Good Will

    So here’s ol’ Christmas comin’ on, remindin’ us again
    Of Him whose coming brought good will into the hearts of men.
    A cowboy ain’t a preacher, Lord, but if You’ll hear my prayer,
    I’ll ask as good as we have got for all men everywhere.

    Likely the coming of the season of Christmas has been the impetus for the cowboy to be offering this halting prayer.  So he now tells the Lord that the coming of Christmas has reminded him of Jesus the Christ, Who “brought good will” into men’s hearts.

    Even though he “ain’t a preacher,” the cowboy expresses the hope that the Lord will still hear his prayer.  He promises to supplicate for the “good” of everyone everywhere.  He wishes that all men may be as blessed as he his.  His gratitude keeps his own heart open to the Lord’s grace.

    Fifth Movement:  Prayer of a Simple Soul

    Don’t let no hearts be bitter, Lord.
    Don’t let no child be cold.
    Make easy the beds for them that’s sick and them that’s weak and old.
    Let kindness bless the trail we ride, no matter what we’re after,
    And sorter keep us on Your side, in tears as well as laughter.

    In the next cinquain, the speaker offers a catalogue of blessings that he wishes to ask of the Lord.  He asks that no bitterness reside in the hearts of men, as he asks that “no child be cold.”  

    He asks the Lord comfort those who are ill and make their convalescence go smoothly.  He also wish ease and comfort for those who are old and weak.  He asks kind-heartedness remain a feature of the “trail we ride.” He then asks the Creator to keep humanity on His side throughout good times as well as bad times.

    Sixth Movement:  Praying for Others’ Welfare

    I’ve seen ol’ cows a-starvin’ — and it ain’t no happy sight;
    Please don’t leave no one hungry, Lord, on Thy Good Christmas Night —
    No man, no child, no woman, and no critter on four feet
    I’ll do my doggone best to help you find ’em chuck to eat.

    Returning to the quatrain-form for the sixth movement, the speaker focuses on hunger; he has observed cows that are starving to death, and that sight weighs heavily on his heart and mind; thus, he begs the Lord to “leave no one hungry.” 

    This deprivation is so important to him that he asks that “no man, no child, no woman” be allowed to go hungry.  But he also wants the Lord to protect all animals from the fate of hunger.  He then promises to help the Lord in finding food for all who are hungry.

    Seventh Movement:  Self-Deprecation 

    I’m just a sinful cowpoke, Lord — ain’t got no business prayin’
    But still I hope you’ll ketch a word or two, of what I’m sayin’:
    We speak of Merry Christmas, Lord—

    In the next tercet, the cowboy again engages in self-deprecation, saying he is “just a sinful cowpoke” and he does not deserve to be “prayin’.”  Still, he expresses the hope that the Creator will hear at least “a word or two” of his prayer.  

    The cowboy/speaker then begins a thought which is so important that he offers merely the opening of it, allowing its conclusion to spread over another bridge and into the final tercet.  He begins by reporting that “[w]e speak of Merry Christmas, Lord—.”

    Eighth Movement:  Agreement with His Lord

    I reckon You’ll agree —

    The speaker then creates a second bridge between thoughts.  This time he inserts the important notion he thinks the Lord will agree with what he is about to propose. By beginning the thought in the conclusion of the seventh movement, allowing it to marinate through the eighth bridge movement, he has created a small mystery that emphasizes the utterly vital importance of his final thought.

    Ninth Movement:  Freedom Is Vital

    There ain’t no Merry Christmas for nobody that ain’t free!
    So one thing more I ask You, Lord: just help us what You can
    To save some seeds of freedom for the future Sons of Man!

    Finally, the cowboy issues his important claim before God and world that the most important possession that mankind must retain is “freedom.”  There can be no “Merry Christmas” unless humanity is free to enjoy it; no happiness can exists for any individual “that ain’t free!”

    Thus, the cowboy’s final supplication is that the Lord “save some seeds of freedom for the future Sons of Man!”  He asks his Creator to allow the love and hope of freedom to grow with mankind in all lands for all time.

  • Badger Clark’s “A Cowboy’s Prayer”

    Image: Badger Clark

    Badger Clark’s “A Cowboy’s Prayer”

    Badger Clark’s ballad consists of four riming octets, nostalgically dramatizing a celebration of his gratitude to God for his way of life.

    Introduction and Text of “A Cowboy’s Prayer”

    Badger Clark’s “A Cowboy’s Prayer” with the subtitle “Written for Mother”offers a prayer that would make any mother proud, as he celebrates his free lifestyle of living on the open range. Each octet stanza features the rime scheme ABABCDCD. This Badger classic was first published in  The Pacific Monthly, in December of 1906.

    About this poem/prayer, Katie Lee writes in her classic history of cowboy songs and poems starkly titled Ten Thousand Goddam Cattle, A History of the American Cowboy in Song, Story, and Verse, “The language is true to his free-roving spirit and gives insight to the code he lived by the things he expected of himself.”

    A Cowboy’s Prayer

    (Written for Mother)

    Oh Lord, I’ve never lived where churches grow.
    I love creation better as it stood
    That day You finished it so long ago
    And looked upon Your work and called it good.
    I know that others find You in the light
    That’s sifted down through tinted window panes,
    And yet I seem to feel You near tonight
    In this dim, quiet starlight on the plains. 

    I thank You, Lord, that I am placed so well,
    That You have made my freedom so complete;
    That I’m no slave of whistle, clock or bell,
    Nor weak-eyed prisoner of wall and street.
    Just let me live my life as I’ve begun
    And give me work that’s open to the sky;
    Make me a pardner of the wind and sun,
    And I won’t ask a life that’s soft or high.

    Let me be easy on the man that’s down;
    Let me be square and generous with all.
    I’m careless sometimes, Lord, when I’m in town,
    But never let ’em say I’m mean or small!
    Make me as big and open as the plains,
    As honest as the hawse between my knees,
    Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains,
    Free as the hawk that circles down the breeze!

    Forgive me, Lord, if sometimes I forget.
    You know about the reasons that are hid.
    You understand the things that gall and fret;
    You know me better than my mother did.
    Just keep an eye on all that’s done and said
    And right me, sometimes, when I turn aside,
    And guide me on the long, dim, trail ahead
    That stretches upward toward the Great Divide.

    Clark’s “A Cowboy’s Prayer”

    Commentary on “A Cowboy’s Prayer”

    This poem, written in the traditional ballad form, reveals a grateful cowboy, who loves his rustic way of life and gives thanks for God for it. 

    First Stanza:  Addressing the Lord

    Oh Lord, I’ve never lived where churches grow.
    I love creation better as it stood
    That day You finished it so long ago
    And looked upon Your work and called it good.
    I know that others find You in the light
    That’s sifted down through tinted window panes,
    And yet I seem to feel You near tonight
    In this dim, quiet starlight on the plains. 

    The speaker begins his payer by addressing the Lord, telling Him that he has never been one to attend church, because “[he’s]  never lived where churches grow.” But he admits that he loves creation just as the Lord finished it before mankind began to build things.

    The speaker then confides that while others may find the Lord “in the light that is sifted down through tinted window panes,” he feels Him near, “In this dim, quiet starlight on the plains.” The speaker wants to assure the Divine that despite his absence from houses of worship, he worships without a house while simply stationed out on the open plains created by the Great Creator.

    Second Stanza:  Thanking the Lord

    I thank You, Lord, that I am placed so well,
    That You have made my freedom so complete;
    That I’m no slave of whistle, clock or bell,
    Nor weak-eyed prisoner of wall and street.
    Just let me live my life as I’ve begun
    And give me work that’s open to the sky;
    Make me a pardner of the wind and sun,
    And I won’t ask a life that’s soft or high.

    The speaker offers his heartfelt gratitude to the Lord for his blessings. He is especially grateful that the Lord has made “[his] freedom so complete.” He then catalogues the places where he would not feel so free, places where he would have to heed the call “of whistle, clock or bell.”

    He asks the Lord to continue blessing him this way: “Just let me live my life as I’ve begun / And give me work that’s open to the sky.” He avers that he will not ever be asking “for a life that’s soft or high.”

    Third Stanza:  Praying for Wisdom

    Let me be easy on the man that’s down;
    Let me be square and generous with all.
    I’m careless sometimes, Lord, when I’m in town,
    But never let ’em say I’m mean or small!
    Make me as big and open as the plains,
    As honest as the hawse between my knees,
    Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains,
    Free as the hawk that circles down the breeze!

    The speaker then asks for the guidance and wisdom to treat other people with respect and honor. He admits that sometimes he is careless, especially when he is in town. But he asks that he never be mean or small. He wants others to think well of him because he behaves properly.

    The speaker asks for three things, honesty, cleanliness, and freedom. Thus, he asks the Lord to make him,  “As honest as the hawse between my knees, / Clean as the wind that blows behind the rains, / Free as the hawk that circles down the breeze!”

    Fourth Stanza:  Praying for Guidance

    Forgive me, Lord, if sometimes I forget.
    You know about the reasons that are hid.
    You understand the things that gall and fret;
    You know me better than my mother did.
    Just keep an eye on all that’s done and said
    And right me, sometimes, when I turn aside,
    And guide me on the long, dim, trail ahead
    That stretches upward toward the Great Divide.

    Again, the speaker acknowledges that he is not perfect, that at times he forgets proper behavior. He admits that he does not know all that God knows: “You know about the reasons that are hid.” And he declares that the Lord knows him “better than my mother did.”

    So the speaker asks God to guard and guide him by watching over him, and when he misbehaves, he begs the Lord to “right me, sometimes, when I turn aside.” He asks God to be with him as he moves “on the long, dim, trail ahead / That stretches up toward the Great Divide”. He masterly employs the metaphoric Great Divide to signal the afterworld as well as a great Western geological phenomenon.

    Image: Badger Clark

  • Phillis Wheatley’s “On Virtue”

    Image a:  Phillis Wheatley

    Phillis Wheatley’s “On Virtue”

    The speaker in Phillis Wheatley’s “On Virtue” is describing the characteristics of that quality, as she supplicates to the heavenly realms to enrich and enliven her creative ability to produce useful, genuine, and delightful poems.

    Introduction and Text of “On Virtue”

    Phillis Wheatley’s “On Virtue” creates a speaker who is paying tribute to the coveted life goal of virtue or the characteristic that results from righteousness, integrity, and dedication to the truth.  Virtue takes its substance from behavior, that is, right behavior.  

    The virtuous are those who conduct their life in ways that contribute to freedom, prosperity, peace, and calmness of community. Without a plurality of virtuous folks, a community breaks down, becomes unlivable, causing the virtuous to flee.

    The speaker is personifying the quality of virtue, invoking its essential quality to lend its powers to her, and especially to her ability to create her art:  she wishes to create “a nobler lay.”  Thus, after offering a colorful description of the behavior of “virtue,” the speaker offers a supplication, almost a prayer, that virtue visit her and direct her abilities.

    On Virtue

    O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive
    To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare
    Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.
    I cease to wonder, and no more attempt
    Thine height t’explore, or fathom thy profound.
    But, O my soul, sink not into despair,
    Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand
    Would now embrace thee, hovers o’er thine head.
    Fain would the heav’n-born soul with her converse,
    Then seek, then court her for her promis’d bliss.

    Auspicious queen, thine heav’nly pinions spread,
    And lead celestial Chastity along;
    Lo! now her sacred retinue descends,
    Array’d in glory from the orbs above.
    Attend me, Virtue, thro’ my youthful years!
    O leave me not to the false joys of time!
    But guide my steps to endless life and bliss.
    Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee,
    To give an higher appellation still,
    Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay,
    O thou, enthron’d with Cherubs in the realms of day!

    Commentary on “On Virtue”

    The speaker is Phillis Wheatley’s “On Virtue” is describing the qualities of virtue. As she muses upon the nature of that outstanding quality, she hopes not only to understand it better but also that it will assist her in creating her poems and songs.

    First Stanza: A Valued Quality

    O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive
    To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare
    Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.
    I cease to wonder, and no more attempt
    Thine height t’explore, or fathom thy profound.
    But, O my soul, sink not into despair,
    Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand
    Would now embrace thee, hovers o’er thine head.
    Fain would the heav’n-born soul with her converse,
    Then seek, then court her for her promis’d bliss

    The speaker begins by addressing her subject as “bright jewel.” This appellation demonstrates the value that the speaker is placing on her subject, virtue. To her, virtue is like a precious stone that is bright, thus, cheerful.  She expresses the wish to understand exactly what “virtue” is. Virtue’s own synonyms demonstrate that the status of “wisdom” remains out of reach for the “fool.”

    The speaker then confesses that she will stop musing and trying to examine a quality that remains at such a height and depth that it seems impossible for her to attain. Then the prospect that her soul might sink into despair at abandoning that quality gives rise to her command to her soul not to “sink . . . into despair.”

    While she may not become one with virtue, that quality remains “near” her. Also, the “gentle hand” of that quality will continue to “embrace” the speaker. And it will continue to protect her as it “hovers o’er thine head.”

    The soul gladly seeks to attain virtue, for that force is “heav’n-born.” The soul wishes to hold court with virtue, and it will seek to do so. And the soul will continue to pursue that quality in order to reach its goal of “bliss”—promised by all great spiritual leaders and avatars.

    Second Stanza: A Supplication for Guidance

    Auspicious queen, thine heav’nly pinions spread,
    And lead celestial Chastity along;
    Lo! now her sacred retinue descends,
    Array’’d in glory from the orbs above.
    Attend me, Virtue, thro’ my youthful years!
    O leave me not to the false joys of time!
    But guide my steps to endless life and bliss.
    Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee,
    To give an higher appellation still,
    Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay,
    O thou, enthron’d with Cherubs in the realms of day!

    The speaker then addresses the quality of virtue as “[a]uspicious queen,” again sending the status of that quality into the higher realms, such as royalty.   But this special queen possesses wings like an angel, and those wings not only fan out but also motivate the quality of “Chastity,” the state of purity that those seeking virtue gladly embrace.

    The speaker begins describing the movement of that “auspicious queen,” as her “retinue” moves downward dressed in “glory” that belongs to the heavenly realm above it. She then commands “Virtue” to listen to her cries for guidance for her young soul during her maturing years.

    She then requests that virtue not allow her to remain in the “false joys of time”—a supplication reminiscent of “lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil” (Matthew 6:5-15 KJV). She is seeking the genuine that she knows her soul requires and craves.

    She asks to be guided to a life of eternal bliss—the very desire that yoga avatars, such as Paramahansa Yogananda, insist remains inherent in every human soul that incarnates upon Mother Earth. The speaker then describes the quality of virtue as containing greatness and goodness, as she seeks an even “an high appellation” for the name of the quality.

    Finally, the speaker supplicates for this blessed, high-moral quality to instruct her so that she may create “a nobler lay.” She reminds that quality—as a way of reminding herself—that virtue retains a celestial, mystic power because it is encircled by “Cherubs” even as the daylight hours grace the atmosphere.