by
Anthony M. Ludovici
InThe Goddess that Grew Up
p. 4
Hutchinson
London
1922
| | The infant broken of the breast
Knows not the heart that loves it best;
Nor yet as adult will have gleaned
Who wept the most when it was weaned.
The babe that first has learnt to run,
And laughs at independence won,
Recks not, when far its footsteps ring,
Where harshly they are echoing.
And when the child — a child no more —
Goes singing from her father's door,
She heeds not, if a mate she find,
The cheerless eyes she leaves behind.
For children long to learn and live
The sweet and sour that life can give;
Though soon as parents they'll have gleaned
That parents too in turn are weaned. |
|