LET me come in where you sit weeping, -- ay, Let me, who have not any child to die, Weep with you for the little one whose love I have known nothing of. The little arms that slowly, slowly loosed Their pressure round your neck; the hands you used To kiss. -- Such arms -- such hands I never knew. May I not weep with you? Fain would I be of service -- say some thing, Between the tears, that would be comforting, -- But ah! so sadder than yourselves am I, Who have no child to die. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: FLETCHER MCGEE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS JOY (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE MOTHER by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON EPITAPH IN A CHURCH-YARD IN CHARLESTON, SOUTH CAROLINA by AMY LOWELL SAINT PATRICK by EDWIN MARKHAM A CERTAIN POET ON THE DEBATES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS IN 'DESIGNING A CLOAK TO CLOAK HIS DESIGNS' YOU WRESTED FROM OBLIVION by MARIANNE MOORE |