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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=346191" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Peekaboo: Three Songs For The Nursery</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=346191" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The longer thou livest, the more fool thou.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=346191" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=346191" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Go hide! Go hide! But through the latticework <br>Of my upraised bone hands <br>I see athlete and statesman, priest and clerk <br>Step forth as deodands. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=346191" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>Risking more than they know of life and limb <br>In playing Peekaboo— <br>Whose happiest chances couldn’t be called “slim”— <br>I’ve tagged each: ICU </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=346191" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">II</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=346191" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Cry; baby, cry!<br>You’ve got two reasons why.<br>The first is being born at all:<br>The second, my peremptory call.<br>Cry; baby, cry!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=346191" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Weep, baby, weep!<br>No solaces in sleep.<br>Nightmare will ruin your repose<br>And daylight resurrect your woes.<br>Weep, baby, weep!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=346191" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">III</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=346191" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Bah, bah, black sheep, you supply the needs <br>Plaguing mourners: stylish widows’ weeds. <br>Haute couture for all the fashion shows. <br>Black is the color of my true love’s clothes.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Anthony+Evan+Hecht">Anthony Evan Hecht</a></strong></div>

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