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1872–1943

THE CHILD GOD GAVE

Cale Young Rice

“Give me a little child To draw this dreary want out of my breast,” I cried to God. “Give, for my days beat wild

With loneliness that will not rest But under the still sod!” It came — with groping lips And little fingers stealing aimlessly

About my heart. I was like one who slips A-sudden into Ecstasy And thinks ne'er to depart.

“Soon he will smile,” I said, “And babble baby love into my ears — How it will thrill!” I waited — Oh, the dread,

The clutching agony, the fears!— He was so strange and still. Did I curse God and rave When they came shrinkingly to tell me‘ twas

A witless child? No... I... I only gave One cry... just one... I think... because... You know... he never smiled.

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THE CHILD GOD GAVE · Cale Young Rice · Poetry Cove