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Home  »  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse  »  Frances Shaw

Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.

Little Lonesome Soul

Frances Shaw

Through the pure ether

And the heavenly air,

A little wandering Soul

Seeks everywhere its mother.

The little stars will play with thee;

The moon thy pretty boat shall be;

The sun himself thy horse is he.

Angels will guide thee in thy flight

Straight to the gates of golden light.

Why dost thou hide thee in the night?

Through the pure ether

And the heavenly air

A little lonesome Soul

Seeks everywhere its mother.

It trembles at its tiny wings;

It fears the harp the angel brings,

Nor knows the song the angel sings.

It only wants, if it should cry,

To feel its mother’s hand close by,

To hear its mother’s lullaby.

Through the pure ether

And the heavenly air

A little lonesome Soul

Seeks everywhere its mother.