The Doorkeeper

a poem by John Starks, USA

Should there be Kingships which need not be won,
Then give, to me, of all you grant, the least,
Or, better yet, make me, your late-found-son,
But prove, as I would bend to serve, your priest.
Should there be something else deemed great to do,
Then give to he who pleases more your charge,
As my good pleasure is to bow to you,
Or to proclaim that truth, e'en yet at large.
But, should some matter fall within my scope:
Should there but prove some need of minor skill,
Then call on me and I'll both pray and hope
That I can honour else your charge or will.
Do call me David, as I'd keep the door,
Who, too, to serve you well, would but implore.


Food For The Soul
To Birte, Rejoice In Sorrow!

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