Sara Teasdale — Song Making

My heart cried like a beaten child        &nbsp Ceaselessly all night long; I had to take my own cries        &nbsp And thread them into a song. One was a cry at black midnight        &nbsp And one when the first cock crew— My heart was like a beaten child,        &nbsp But no one ever knew. Life, you have put me in your debt        &nbsp And I must serve you long— But oh, the debt is terrible        &nbsp That must be paid in song.