Prayer

When I was young I told God what to do, And called it prayer. Even the questions that I asked of you I let Him share.

There were so many things He might not see, That was my fear— I told him ways of secret ecstasy, He would not hear.

Now that I’m old, I have been taught to see The unspoilt sweetness that is yesterday. Without a future man at last is free, With nought to ask for I have learnt to pray.