Richard Wilbur

(March 1, 1921)

The Riddle - Poem by Richard Wilbur

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'.


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Read poems about / on: work, god, love



Poem Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003



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