Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

The Lonely Child

DO you think, my boy, when I put my arms around you

To still your fears,

That it is I who conquer the dark and the lonely night?

My arms seem to wrap love about you,

As your little heart fluttering at my breast

Throbs love through me …

But, dear one, it is not your father:

Other arms are about you, drawing you near,

And drawing the Earth near, and the Night near,

And your father near.…

Some day you shall lie alone at nights,

As now your father lies;

And in those arms, as a leaf fallen on a tranquil stream,

Drift into dreams and healing sleep.