THE woman had borne me a child; I had laughed and gone my way. She cried to me in her agony; her desolation. I rode away untouched; my heart was turned to stone. The sight of the new born child—my own—did not move me. Why, then, did the cry of the crane, Startled, as I rode past the swamp at midnight, After an evening of roistering, Open my heart to an understanding Of that woman's suffering, Make me feel her soul as my own, Make me turn, shamed and stricken, And ride to the hut where she lay dying With my child in her arms? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GOLDEN WEDDING OF STERLING AND SARAH LANIER by SIDNEY LANIER WITH CHAOS IN EACH KISS by TIMOTHY LIU |