Bronze (Johnson)/To Samuel Coleridge Taylor
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TO SAMUEL COLERIDGE TAYLOR, UPON HEARING HIS
Strange to a sensing motherhood,Loved as a toy—not understood,Child of a dusky father, bold;Frail little captive, exiled, cold.
Oft when the brooding planets sleep,You through their drowsy empires creep,Flinging your arms through their empty space,Seeking the breast of an unknown face.