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.