Poem - Untitled

(Typed on stationery from "The Old Allyn House, Barnstable, Massachusetts" with handwriting in pencil at top of the page that reads, " To Alexandra, 1942") Oh tiny tot of pinched humanity

Brought forth in labour – pain

Into this sorrowful world!

What heritage can I bequeath

That you can understand?

Shall noise of battle, thunderous guns

Or shrieking bombs lull you to sleep

Or waken fitful cries within your narrow chest.

I would not have the ravages of man beserk

Act as your lullaby.

Yet in these dark unchristian times

A feeble light that never can be totally put out

Shines forth with beacon steadiness

This Friendship light is yours

And may its constant beam increase

And gleam and spread the true inherent belief

Of brotherhood and peace.