Here you will find the Poem Anselmo of poet James Whitcomb Riley
Years did I vainly seek the good Lord's grace--, Prayed, fasted, and did penance dire and dread; Did kneel, with bleeding knees and rainy face, And mouth the dust, with ashes on my head; Yea, still with knotted scourge the flesh I flayed, Rent fresh the wounds, and moaned and shrieked insanely; And froth oozed with the pleadings that I made, And yet I prayed on vainly, vainly, vainly! A time, from out of swoon I lifted eye, To find a wretched outcast, gray and grim, Bathing my brow, with many a pitying sigh, And I did pray God's grace might rest on him--. Then, lo! A gentle voice fell on mine ears-- 'Thou shalt not sob in suppliance hereafter; Take up thy prayers and wring them dry of tears, And lift them, white and pure with love and laughter!' So is it now for all men else I pray; So is it I am blest and glad alway.
