From 'To A Young Son' by Julia Johnson Davis
In your face I sometimes see
Shadowings of the man to be,
And eager, dream of what my son
Will be in twenty years and one.
But when you are to manhood grown
And all your manhood ways are known,
Then shall I, wistful, try to trace
The child you once were in your face?
Shadowings of the man to be,
And eager, dream of what my son
Will be in twenty years and one.
But when you are to manhood grown
And all your manhood ways are known,
Then shall I, wistful, try to trace
The child you once were in your face?

MY LITTLE ONE - By Tennessee Williams
My little one whose tongue is dumb, whose fingers cannot hold to things, who is so mercilessly young, he leaps upon the instant things, I hold him not.
Indeed, who could? He runs into the burning wood. Follow, follow if you can! He will come out grown to a man and not remember whom he kissed, who caught him by the slender wrist and bound him by a tender yoke which, understanding not, he broke.
Indeed, who could? He runs into the burning wood. Follow, follow if you can! He will come out grown to a man and not remember whom he kissed, who caught him by the slender wrist and bound him by a tender yoke which, understanding not, he broke.
