FROM THE POETRY SHELF1920
Song Making
by Sara Teasdale
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.
Collection and author context
The linked Project Gutenberg text places this poem in Flame and Shadow (1920). Teasdale’s biography and the linked Academy of American Poets and Poetry Foundation profiles provide further context for her lyric poetry and published collections.
Source text: Flame and Shadow (1920) · Project Gutenberg. Further reading: all poems by Sara Teasdale · Academy of American Poets: Sara Teasdale · Poetry Foundation: Sara Teasdale.