WITH the little infant day Wake, and play! From the stars, grown pale behind, See, his eyes are turned away!— Blue are they, Blue, and innocent, and kind. He is young for any pain;— But, with rain Should his little life grow dim, We are here to pity him. Not in vain Of the clouds shall he complain. Tears of yours could Love, forget?— Weeping, you?— And his life is younger yet Far, and earlier ended, too. Every toy to please him set;— Let him watch the things you do. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MOTHER (MARGERY CARRUTH, 1896-1981) by HAYDEN CARRUTH TEARS AND KISSES by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON YOUTH'S PROGENY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A BANJO SONG by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON A MENDOCINO MEMORY by EDWIN MARKHAM |