O children who have never known the clasp
Of those dear arms that fend away the world,
Surely the kindly gods will know the why
Of a fair portion of our restless sins!
Surely the kindly gods will pardon us,
Poor foster-children of the careless Earth
Whose brood is all too great for tenderness!
We may find loves and friends in womankind,
White arms that cling and cool white hands that soothe,
But we can never know the first and best.
Perchance we may but find her in our dreams,
Perchance we may not even find her there,
Perchance our memories may not limn her face--
Yet shall we sense a lack when most we need,
In hopeless moments when the strongest knows
That he is but an infant in the dark.
Therefore I think the gods will pardon us
Of a fair portion of our restless sins,
Lone children who have never known the clasp
Of those dear arms that fend away the world.