Verse > Anthologies > Sara Teasdale, ed. > The Answering Voice
Sara Teasdale, comp. (1884–1933).
The Answering Voice: One Hundred Love Lyrics by Women.  1917.
By Irene Rutherford McLeod
AS a little child I come
To be gathered to your breast
So tired that my lips are dumb,
So sad that my warm heart is numb:
    Belovèd, let me rest.        5
Oh, how all the noises die,
All the cruel voices cease,
I can sleep when you are by,
And I am too faint to cry:
    Here at last is peace.        10
Hold me, nurse me, love me … so …
Almost I could learn to weep!
Hush, I feel my spirit grow …
When you tire … let me go …
    I shall be … asleep.        15

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