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greatpoetry2005-02-03 04:39 pm
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so much macneice to choose from
Prayer Before Birth
Louis MacNeice
I am not yet born; O hear me.
Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat or the
  club-footed ghoul come near me.
I am not yet born, console me.
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
  with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me,
  on black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me.
I am not yet born; provide me
With water to dandle me, grass to grow for me, trees to talk
  to me, sky to sing to me, birds and a white light
  in the back of my mind to guide me.
I am not yet born; forgive me
For the sins that in me the world shall commit, my words
  when they speak to me, my thoughts when they think me,
  my treason engendered by traitors beyond me,
  my life when they murder by means of my
  hands, my death when they live me.
I am not yet born; rehearse me
In the parts I must play and the cues I must take when
old men lecture me, bureaucrats hector me, mountains
  frown at me, lovers laugh at me, the white
  waves call me to folly and the desert calls
  me to doom and the beggar refuses
  my gift and my children curse me.
I am not yet born; O hear me,
Let not the man who is beast or who thinks he is God
  come near me.
I am not yet born; O fill me
With strength against those who would freeze my
  humanity, would dragoon me into a lethal automaton,
  would make me a cog in a machine, a thing with
  one face, a thing, and against all those
  who would dissipate my entirety, would
  blow me like thistledown hither and
  thither or hither and thither
  like water held in the
    hands would spill me.
Let them not make me a stone and let them not spill me.
Otherwise kill me.
Louis MacNeice
I am not yet born; O hear me.
Let not the bloodsucking bat or the rat or the stoat or the
  club-footed ghoul come near me.
I am not yet born, console me.
I fear that the human race may with tall walls wall me,
  with strong drugs dope me, with wise lies lure me,
  on black racks rack me, in blood-baths roll me.
I am not yet born; provide me
With water to dandle me, grass to grow for me, trees to talk
  to me, sky to sing to me, birds and a white light
  in the back of my mind to guide me.
I am not yet born; forgive me
For the sins that in me the world shall commit, my words
  when they speak to me, my thoughts when they think me,
  my treason engendered by traitors beyond me,
  my life when they murder by means of my
  hands, my death when they live me.
I am not yet born; rehearse me
In the parts I must play and the cues I must take when
old men lecture me, bureaucrats hector me, mountains
  frown at me, lovers laugh at me, the white
  waves call me to folly and the desert calls
  me to doom and the beggar refuses
  my gift and my children curse me.
I am not yet born; O hear me,
Let not the man who is beast or who thinks he is God
  come near me.
I am not yet born; O fill me
With strength against those who would freeze my
  humanity, would dragoon me into a lethal automaton,
  would make me a cog in a machine, a thing with
  one face, a thing, and against all those
  who would dissipate my entirety, would
  blow me like thistledown hither and
  thither or hither and thither
  like water held in the
    hands would spill me.
Let them not make me a stone and let them not spill me.
Otherwise kill me.
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