The longer thou livest, the more fool thou. <br /> <br />I <br /> <br />Go hide! Go hide! But through the latticework <br />Of my upraised bone hands <br />I see athlete and statesman, priest and clerk <br />Step forth as deodands. <br /> <br /> <br />Risking more than they know of life and limb <br />In playing Peekaboo— <br />Whose happiest chances couldn’t be called “slim”— <br />I’ve tagged each: ICU <br /> <br />II <br /> <br />Cry; baby, cry! <br />You’ve got two reasons why. <br />The first is being born at all: <br />The second, my peremptory call. <br />Cry; baby, cry! <br /> <br />Weep, baby, weep! <br />No solaces in sleep. <br />Nightmare will ruin your repose <br />And daylight resurrect your woes. <br />Weep, baby, weep! <br /> <br />III <br /> <br />Bah, bah, black sheep, you supply the needs <br />Plaguing mourners: stylish widows’ weeds. <br />Haute couture for all the fashion shows. <br />Black is the color of my true love’s clothes.<br /><br />Anthony Evan Hecht<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/peekaboo-three-songs-for-the-nursery/
