Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE BALD-HEADED TYRANT, by MARY E. VANDYNE First Line: O! The quietest home in earth had I Last Line: This bald-headed tyrant from no-man's-land. Subject(s): Babies; Baldness; Infants | ||||||||
O THE quietest home in earth had I, No thought of trouble, no hint of care; Like a dream of pleasure the days fled by, And Peace had folded her pinions there. But one day there joined in our household band A bald-headed tyrant from No-man's-land. Oh, the despot came in the dead of night, And no one ventured to ask him why; Like slaves we trembled before his might, Our hearts stood still when we heard him cry; For never a soul could his power withstand, That bald-headed tyrant from No-man's-land. He ordered us here, and he sent us there -- Though never a word could his small lips speak -- With his toothless gums and his vacant stare, And his helpless limbs so frail and weak, Till I cried, in a voice of stern command, "Go up, thou bald-head from No-man's-land!" But his abject slaves they turned on me; Like the bears in Scripture, they'd rend me there, The while they worshiped with bended knee This ruthless wretch with the missing hair; For he rules them all with relentless hand, This bald-headed tyrant from No-man's-land. Then I searched for help in every clime, For peace had fled from my dwelling now, Till I finally thought of old Father Time, And low before him I made my bow. "Wilt thou deliver me out of his hand, This bald-headed tyrant from No-man's-land?" Old Time he looked with a puzzled stare, And a smile came over his features grim. "I'll take the tyrant under my care: Watch what my hour-glass does to him. The veriest humbug that ever was planned Is this same bald-head from No-man's-land." Old Time is doing his work full well -- Much less of might does the tyrant wield; But, ah! with sorrow my heart will swell, And sad tears fall as I see him yield. Could I stay the touch of that shriveled hand, I would keep the bald-head from No-man's-land. For the loss of peace I have ceased to care; Like other vassals, I've learned, forsooth, To love the wretch who forgot his hair And hurried along without a tooth, And he rules me too with his tiny hand, This bald-headed tyrant from No-man's-land. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A POET TO HIS BABY SON by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON BABYHOOD by ELIZABETH AKERS ALLEN INFANCY by EDMUND JOHN ARMSTRONG BALLAD OF THE LAYETTE by WAYNE KOESTENBAUM A TOAST FOR LITTLE IRON MIKE by PAUL MARIANI THE PAMPERING OF LEORA by THYLIAS MOSS ONE FOR ALL NEWBORNS by THYLIAS MOSS IN THE THRIVING SEASON by LISEL MUELLER THE NATION'S BIRTHDAY by MARY E. VANDYNE |
|