I WOULD not bring a baby face Smooth and unscarred, to God on high, And say, "Hereon you find no trace Of living, now I come to die." No, battered up and down the ways, I give Him back this proof of me; Record of keen, tumultuous days, Life's scars, for God Himself to see! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POTATOES' DANCE by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY THE CRADLE OF THE DEEP by EMMA HART WILLARD EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 39. WON BY SUBTILTY by PHILIP AYRES PENTRIDGE BY THE RIVER by WILLIAM BARNES CLIO, NINE ECLOGUES IN HONOUR OF NINE VIRTUES: 6. OF PATIENCE by WILLIAM BASSE RUSTIC WREATH by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |