THE FATHER There's something strange about the child to-night. I scolded her because she had forgotten To fill the stove. She never said a word, But stood and smiled, as if she might be dreaming. THE MOTHER This morning I went out to buy the dinner. I didn't like to leave her, so I took her. Well, she was tired from the time we started. I had to yank her by the arm and pull her. We went to see the window-show at Field's. Oh my! -- the dolls! From the first, one held her eye -- A girl, a life-size two-year-old, with a dress Hand-work all over, and silk socks and slippers. It couldn't have cost less than fifty dollars. She looked, and couldn't seem to turn away. At last she said: "I want to be its mother." Then it came to me -- what the doctor told us -- Her heart was weak, and we must humor her. I said: "You'll get it for a Christmas present." Anyhow I've had peaceful hours since then. She hasn't fussed, nor had a fainting-spell. That shows she can be all right, if she's a mind to. But what on earth'll we say to her to-morrow? THE FATHER We'll say how Santa Claus got stuck in the snow. THE MOTHER Now hark, I hear her humming in her bed! She always hums, and never sings out words. @3The song they may not hear@1 I shall draw her very close to me, With my love. Oh, could anything more beautiful be Dreamed of? She is coming. I must wait, I must wait. THE MOTHER It's all because I let her go to school. I never was a one for education For children of her age. It gives 'em notions, And sets 'em looking up too high at things. @3The song they may not hear@1 My sweet child is like a flower's light. So is She, Wonderful Our Lady, in the night Near me. She will help me sleep and wait, Sleep and wait. THE FATHER I'll just go out and look along the street -- The men have stood all day there peddling toys. I'll just go out and buy a top for her. THE MOTHER Let her be satisfied with goose for dinner, And a bag of candy from the school-house tree. @3The song they may not hear@1 I shall hold my daughter's finger-tips -- How they shine! I shall almost dare to touch her lips With mine. I must try to sleep and wait, Sleep and wait. THE MOTHER How can we tell her? -- that's what's bothering me. How can we tell her, tell her? -- answer that! Oh, somehow I'm afraid to think of it -- The dark in her eyes I know she'll have to-morrow. When she comes looking, and it isn't here! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEATH OF A PHOTOGRAPHER by KAREN SWENSON IN A BURYING GROUND by SARA TEASDALE APOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE FUNERAL by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ELSA WERTMAN by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |