All Through The Day At My Machine Poem by Lesbia Harford
All Through The Day At My Machine
All through the day at my machine
There still keeps going
A strange little tune through heart and head
As I sit sewing:
'There is a child in Hungary,
A child I love in Hungary'
The words come flowing.
When I am walking home at night
That song comes after,
And under the trees in holiday time
Or hearing laughter:
'I have a son in Hungary,
My little son in Hungary'
Comes following after.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/20/2024 2:44:54 AM # 1.0.0.1119
