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 cock¹ 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.