What would I ask the kindly fates to give To crown her life, if I could have my way?
My strongest wishes would be negative, If they would but obey.
Give her not greatness. For great souls must stand Alone and lonely in this little world:
Cleft rocks that show the great Creator's hand, Thither by earthquakes hurled.
Give her not genius. Spare her the cruel pain Of finding her whole life a prey for daws;Of hearing with quickened sense and burning brain The world's sneer-tinged applause.
Give her not perfect beauty's gifts. For then Her truthful mirror would infuse her mind With love for self, and for the praise of men, That lowers woman-kind.
But make her fair and comely to the sight, Give her more heart than brain, more love than pride.
Let her be tender-thoughted, cheerful, bright, Some strong man's star and guide.
Not vainly questioning why she was sent Into this restless world of toil and strife, Let her go bravely on her way, content To make the best of life.
