codex002489-060r

A voice, in which I had no voice
Revealing, where I would conceal,
Rude impulses without a choice
Faults which this fore father or that
Unkindly fostered, to my ill
With others, some one else begat
And made the matter worser still.

They chose these matters of my fate
To please themselves, bequeathing me
Base pleasures in the things I hate.
Liking, for what mis liketh me.

Out of the ashes of their fires
Out of the fashion of their bone
They fashion a me, my mighty sires
And shall I call my soul, my own?

Ay, borrowed husk, head, heart, & hand
Slave on - and serve me, till I die _ !
I am your Lord, and your Command!
But only God knows, what am I.

Grace Ellery Channing.