Comments about Margaret Widdemer
If You Should Tire Of Loving Me
If you should tire of loving me
Some one of our far days,
Oh, never start to hide your heart
Or cover thought with praise.
For every word you would not say
Be sure my heart has heard,
So go from me all silently
Without a kiss or word;
For God must give you happiness,
And Oh, it may befall
In listening long to Heaven-song
I may not care at all!
A Boy Of The Ghetto
HE goes out with his Dreams
Through the dingy city square,
Purple- and silver-winged
They go with him everywhere.
The quarreling hags at the windows
Have voices unkind, unsweet,
But his Dreams have silver voices
And starrily-slippered feet;