The loose eyes of an old man Shone aloof upon his boyish face; And a sluggish innocence Hugged his dull, brown skin. He sang a hymn borrowed from his elders And his voice resembled A quavering, feverish laugh Softened in a swaying cradle. His life had found a refuge in his voice, And the rest of him was under-nourished flesh Ignorant of life and death. Centuries of oppression Became a mute, infinitely compassionate Background for this child's refrain. His mother shuffled out upon the porch. Slowly her dark brown face resolved Into the hushed and sulky look Of one who stands within a dim-walled trap. Lazily uncertain, She raised the boy into her arms. Then her voice swung in the air Like a quavering, feverish laugh Softened in a long-forgotten cradle. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...L.E.L.'S LAST QUESTION by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING AT CASTERBRIDGE FAIR: 2. FORMER BEAUTIES by THOMAS HARDY THE WOODSPURGE by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI THE LONG AGO by BENJAMIN FRANKLIN TAYLOR ONE'S-SELF I SING by WALT WHITMAN PENISKEE by THOMAS GOLD APPLETON FRAGMENT (FROM THE ELIZABETHANS) by W. BRIDGES-ADAMS MASQUE AT THE MARRIAGE OF THE LORD HAYES: SONG by THOMAS CAMPION |