I WOULD not bring a baby face Smooth and unscarred, to God on high, And say, "Hereon you find no trace Of living, now I come to die." No, battered up and down the ways, I give Him back this proof of me; Record of keen, tumultuous days, Life's scars, for God Himself to see! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW MINIVER CHEEVY by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THERE WAS A BOY (VERSION 1) by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH OF MAIDENS' PRAISE: AN INVOCATION by SAINT ALDHELM |