Poems (Storrie)/Childish Intuition
Childish Intuition.
I heard one tell of travels far and wide Of thrilling dangers, with a mounting pride Of bold remembered feats, of deserts drear Crossed by the hardy steps of pioneer Of buzzing arrows, and the answering crack Of rifles down the narrow mountain track Of tropic rivers forded, treasure won, A hundred reckless deeds of daring done, Yet—in the midst of tales that blanche the cheek And tangle all the pulses, when there came A patter hi the passage, and the weak Assault of arms upon the door, the same Bold hand that slew and spared not felt the balm Of baby fingers nestling in its palm.