Song Making

My heart cried like a beaten child

Ceaselessly all night long;

I had to take my own cries

And thread them into a song.

One was a cry at black midnight

And one when the first cock crew —

My heart was like a beaten child,

But no one ever knew.

Life, you have put me in your debt

And I must serve you long —

But oh, the debt is terrible

That must be paid in song.