BIG BANG Theory

 Give me, for friends, my own true folk

        Who kept the very word they spoke;
            Whose quiet prayers, from day to day,
            Have brought the heavens about my way.

        Not those whose intellectual pride
        Would quench the only lights that guide;
            Confuse the lines 'twixt good and ill
            Then throne their own capricious will;

        Not those whose eyes in mockery scan
        The simpler hopes and dreams of man;
            Not those keen wits, so quick to hurt,
            So swift to trip you in the dirt.

        Not those who'd pluck your mystery out,
        Yet never saw your last redoubt;
            Whose cleverness would kill the song
            Dead at your heart, then prove you wrong.

        Give me those eyes I used to know
        Where thoughts like angels come and go;
         --Not glittering eyes, nor dimmed by books,
            But eyes through which the deep soul looks.

        Give me the quiet hands and face
        That never strove for fame and place;
            The soul whose love, so many a day
            Has brought the heavens about my way.