The Riddle
Shall I love God for causing me to be?
I was mere utterance; shall these words love me?
Yet when I caused His work to jar and stammer,
And one free subject loosened all His grammar,
I love Him that He did not in a rage
Once and forever rule me off the page,
But, thinking I might come to please Him yet,
Crossed out 'delete' and wrote His patient 'stet'.
poem by Richard Wilbur
Added by Poetry Lover
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