The Child on the Curbstone
The headlights raced; the moon, death-faced,
Stared down on that golden river.
I saw through the smoke the scarlet cloak
Of a boy who could not shiver.
His father's hand forced him to stand,
The traffic thundered slaughter;
One foot he thrust in the whirling dust
As it were running water.
As in a dream I saw the stream
Scatter in drops that glistened;
They flamed, they flashed, his brow they splashed,
And danger's son was christened.
The portent passed; his fate was cast,
Sea-farer, desert-ranger.
Tearless I smiled on that fearless child
Dipping his foot in Danger.
Poem by
Elinor Wylie
Biography |
Poems
| Best Poems | Short Poems
| Quotes
|
Email Poem |
More Poems by Elinor Wylie
Comments, Analysis, and Meaning on The Child on the Curbstone
Provide your analysis, explanation, meaning, interpretation, and comments on the poem The Child on the Curbstone here.
Commenting turned off, sorry.