Poem by Lewis Morris

Weakness Made Strong

IF I were poor and weak,
Bankrupt of hope, and desolate of love;
Without a tongue to speak
The strange dumb thoughts of thee which through me move ;
Then would I freely venture, sweet,
To cast my soul down at thy feet.

Or were I proud and great ;
Were all men envious, and all women kind,
And yet my high estate
Showed poor beside the riches of my mind :
Then would I boldly stoop, to rise
Up to the height of thy dear eyes.

But being not weak nor strong,
Cast in the common mould of coarser clay ;
Sure 'twere to do thee wrong
To set my humble homage in thy way,
And cloud thy sunny morn, which I would fain
Keep clear and fair, with my poor private pain.

Only since love and I are so ingrown,
That for my weakness is my love so strong;
And scarce I know what love's is, what mine own,
Nor whether love or I inspire my song :
Take thou my weakness to thy strength, and give
Strength to my weakness, sweet, and bid me live. 

1. Marching
2. At an Almshouse
3. Dear Little Hand
4. Caged
5. Waking

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