 | The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder |  |
A CHILD
Her voice was like the song of birds;
Her eyes were like the stars;
Her little waving hands were like
Bird's wings that beat the bars.
Her eyes were like the stars;
Her little waving hands were like
Bird's wings that beat the bars.
And when those waving hands were still,—
Her soul had fled away,—
The music faded from the air,
The color from the day.
Her soul had fled away,—
The music faded from the air,
The color from the day.
| The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | |