* * The poetry of Ruth T. Whittlesey * *

My Daughter

The living, breathing picture

Of all my dreams come true;

The strength that comes to finish

The things I hoped to do.

The joy of living over

My girlhood days anew,

Succeeding where I failed once,

And try again in you.

The cheek where rose of sunrise

Follows the dawn-like pearl,

Beneath those goldy tresses

Shines out my little girl.

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