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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Lucia Peeples

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

Mine

Lucia Peeples

SORROW is my sick child

I bear about with me.

Though I’ve crooned soft songs, she’s never smiled,

So wan and worn is she.

She is my own, my arms are curled

To shut out loud alarms.

But oh! it’s hard to work, World,

With sorrow in my arms.