This poem was taken from the book of the same title by poet Helen Bayley Davis, copyright 1936. The book was inscribed to my great-grandmother in a beautiful black cursive, “From one poet to another with best wishes for your continued success.”
I Shall Sing A Song
I shall sing a song
Of my own making,
Of life, and love —
All subterfuge forsaking.
It will be the same song
That fools and sages
Have lived and died for,
Down through the ages.
What does it matter
That I sing alone,
That life has stripped me
Bare as a bone?
I shall sing a song
Of my own choice.
I shall sing it softly
In a brittle voice.
Press Send Poetry 