God, we don't like to complain
We know that the mine is no lark--
But--there's the pools from the rain;
But--there's the cold and the dark.
God, You don't know what it is--
You, in Your well-lighted sky,
Watching the meteors whizz;
Warm, with the sun always by.
God, if You had but the moon
Stuck in Your cap for a lamp,
Even You'd tire of it soon,
Down in the dark and the damp.
Nothing but blackness above,
And nothing that moves but the cars--
God, if You wish for our love,
Fling us a handful of stars!