'WHY do you so clasp me, And draw me to your knee? Forsooth, you do but chafe me, I pray you let me be: I will be loved but now and then When it liketh me!' So I heard a young child, A thwart child, a young child Rebellious against love's arms, Make its peevish cry. To the tender God I turn: -- 'Pardon, Love most High! For I think those arms were even Thine, And that child even I.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR YOU O DEMOCRACY by WALT WHITMAN THE MUSIC O' THE DEAD by WILLIAM BARNES S. PHILIP YE DEACON by JOSEPH BEAUMONT PIONEERS OF DETROIT by LEVI BISHOP THE LETTER by CHARLOTTE BRONTE OUR FELLOW-WORSHIPPERS by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT |