Young Mother

By Robert Service

Her baby was so full of glee,
And through the day
It laughed and babbled on her knee
In happy play.
It pulled her hair all out of curl
With noisy joy;
So peppy she was glad her girl
Was not a boy.

Then as she longed for it to sleep,
To her surprise
It just relaxed within her keep
With closing eyes.
And as it lay upon her breast
So still its breath,
So exquisite its utter rest
It looked like death.

It seemed like it had slipped away
To shadow land;
With tiny face like tinted clay
And waxen hand.
No ghost of sigh, no living look . . .
Then with an ache
Of panic fear and love she shook
Her babe awake.

Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad

Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad x
Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad
LEVEL UP!
Drop your email and we'll send you 25 poetry editing guidelines to help transform your creative writing!
Send It!
LEVEL UP!
Drop your email and we'll send you 25 poetry editing guidelines to help transform your creative writing!
Send It!
Subscribe To: State Of The Arts Magazine
Privacy Policy: This information will never be shared with third parties.
Subscribe Now!
Subscribe To: State Of The Arts Magazine
Privacy Policy: This information will never be shared with third parties.
Subscribe Now!