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.