Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
The Dead ChildMadison Cawein
S
And it in Autumn faded quietly.
The sunlight went. And then they fell asleep,
And lay beneath one covering white and deep.
And still the child sleeps on clasped close in night.
“Where dost thou hide?” the garden seems to purr,
And asks again and yet again for her.
Peers in the house: “Come from thy hiding place!
Thou dost thyself a wrong! Where art thou gone?
Come let us see the new frock thou hast on.”