The Dying Face Poem by Ruth Brown

When I look at that dying, dying face
That withered mask
Like a sea of mud inhabited by rats
Whose scratchy feet have left so many marks;
Whose dull cold eyes peer forth
At nothing new or bright or good
Who fed on dreams and hopes:
And the face is the face of the earth.......

Then the time for dying has come.

For the earth must be revived
New life must spring from the land
Young faces, young dreams and hopes...

For the face of a child is the face of spring
And his voice is the song of the lark on the wing
And the time for living and loving is come.