Sara Teasdale: Song Making

Song Making

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.