The day on which the boy was born
The poet whispered: "See,
This is my son! Here is the morn!
A new day breaks for me!
"He shall be one to boldly cry
A message to all men;
He shall succeed for ruth where I
Drove but a halting pen.
"My boy shall speak with such a voice
Of mastery that they
Who hear at noon shall have no choice
But swiftly to obey.
"The careless men shall hear his call
Above the clangor made
By whirring loom, and mill, and all
The tumult that is trade.
It was a prophet spake. To-day
One in the street I heard,
And old and young from work and play
Were heedful to his word.
His tongue was forceful as the gale;
His bell moved every one.
He called the people to a sale.
He was the poet's son!
First published in The Bulletin, 10 April 1919
