On the Birth of a Child

Lo—to the battle-ground of life,   Child, you have come, like a conquering about, Out of a struggle—into strife;   Out of a darkness—into doubt. Girt with the fragile armor of youth,   Child, you must ride into endless wars, With the sword of protest, the buckler of truth,   And a banner of love to sweep the stars. About you the world’s despair will surge;   Into defeat you must plunge and grope— Be to the faltering an urge;   Be to the hopeless years a hope! Be to the darkened world a flame;   Be to its unconcern a blow— For out of its pain and tumult you came,   And into its tumult and pain you go.