Habit.
By Margaret Steele Anderson
So, then! Wilt use me as a garment? Well,
'Tis man's high impudence to think he may;
But I, who am as old as heav'n and hell,
I am not lightly to be east away.
Wilt run a race? Then I will run with thee,
And stay thy steps or speed thee to the goal;
Wilt dare a fight? Then, of a certainty,
I'll aid thy foeman, or sustain thy soul.
Lo, at thy marriage-feast, upon one hand.
Face of thy bride, and on the other, mine!
Lo, at thy couch of sickness close I stand.
And taint the cup, or make it more benign.
Yea, hark! the very son thou hast begot
One day doth give thee certain sign and cry;
Hold thou thy peace, frighted or frighted not;
That look, that sign, that presence, it is I!