Kenneth Rand


To All Ye Motherless

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,

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