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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
BIRTH, by LUCIA TRENT
First Line: Oh little child I hold
Last Line: And seek their visions in the face of hell!
Alternate Author Name(s): Cheyney, Mrs. Ralph; Glass, Mrs. Ernest
Subject(s): Birth; Child Birth; Midwifery
First Line: Oh little child I hold
Last Line: And seek their visions in the face of hell!
Alternate Author Name(s): Cheyney, Mrs. Ralph; Glass, Mrs. Ernest
Subject(s): Birth; Child Birth; Midwifery
Oh little child I hold beneath my heart,
Who try to tear the walls of flesh apart
Which bind you captive through these restless days,
Your little feet shall bleed on human ways,
Your little hands shall strike on treacherous spears,
Nor shall your wounds be soothed by mother tears.
And yet I bear you to the joy of things,
To sun-flushed autumns, pioneering springs,
To lustrous music where mad waters sound,
To the rich, homey fragrance of the ground.
Oh little child, I long to give you birth,
To bear you to the majesty of earth,
To bear you to a world where men still dare
To speak for justice though their hearts despair,
Where men still mount their faith's brave citadel
And seek their visions in the face of hell!
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