My heart cried like a beaten child
Ceaselessly all night long;
I had to take my own cries
And thread them into a song.
One was a cry at black midnight
And one when the first cock crew -
My heart was like a beaten child,
But no one ever knew.
Life, you have put me in your debt
And I must serve you long -
But oh, the debt is terrible
That must be paid in song.
Song Making
Sara Teasdale
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Poem topics: life, night, terrible, black, child, heart, song, long, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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