The longer thou livest, the more fool thou.
I
Go hide! Go hide! But through the latticework
Of my upraised bone hands
I see athlete and statesman, priest and clerk
Step forth as deodands.
Risking more than they know of life and limb
In playing Peekaboo-
Whose happiest chances couldn-t be called -slimâ?-
I-ve tagged each: ICU
II
Cry; baby, cry!
You-ve got two reasons why.
The first is being born at all:
The second, my peremptory call.
Cry; baby, cry!
Weep, baby, weep!
No solaces in sleep.
Nightmare will ruin your repose
And daylight resurrect your woes.
Weep, baby, weep!
III
Bah, bah, black sheep, you supply the needs
Plaguing mourners: stylish widows- weeds.
Haute couture for all the fashion shows.
Black is the color of my true love-s clothes.
Peekaboo: Three Songs For The Nursery
Anthony Evan Hecht
(1)
Poem topics: I love you, life, sleep, sheep, fashion, true, fool, nightmare, step, color, bone, love, hide, black, baby, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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