Born an outcast in a world of slanting sunshine, Small hands grasping, grasping for one friendly beam. "Play with me, children, See, I am one of you!" Sound of children's thoughtless laughter, Sound of many small feet running. Sunshine flooding highwtys, warming darkest corners, Tense hands straining, straining for one friendly beam. "Let me in, young folks, I am a woman, grown now." Looks of open condescension, Looks of passion, hot and brooding. Friendly sunshine, made by God to serve all creatures, Old hands, passive, yellow as the slanting beam. "Let me die, strangers, I am what you made me." Sense of strange and dark foreboding, Sense that worthwhile life was wasted. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COCK-CROW by PHILIP EDWARD THOMAS ONE'S-SELF I SING by WALT WHITMAN MONODY ON THE DEATH OF WENDELL PHILLIPS by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH TRAVELOGUE by EVA K. ANGLESBURG CORRESPONDENCES by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE SORCERESS OF THE MOON by WILLIAM ROSE BENET AN ANCIENT PATH by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN EPITAPH ON THE LADY MARY VILLIERS [OR VILLERS] (3) by THOMAS CAREW |