| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Lullaby of the Outcast | | By Ruth Tenney |
| | From “In China”
CHILD, born of my weeping, sleep. | |
| They have beaten me, and cast me out of the village— | |
| Sleep, my own. | |
| |
| Your father was a merchant who passed through the fields— | |
| His sleeves were of silk and his hair shone in the dusk. | 5 |
| Sleep, my son—may you never know pain. | |
| |
| The blossoming wheat shelters us; | |
| Far off, the village dogs bay to the night— | |
| Sleep, my own. | |
| |
| At dawn we will set out over the plain | 10 |
| Toward the city of merciful strangers. | |
| There I will bow down beside the great gate, | |
| Begging of all who enter in; | |
| Till they, seeing you in my arms, | |
| Little one, little prince clothed in rags, | 15 |
| Must pity us with a great pity and fling us alms. | |
| |
| Sleep on my heart, little son— | |
| May you never know pain. | | | | |
|
|
