Go home. Be good. I have no time to talk.”
The little fellow, reassured and gay,
Kisses his father and then runs away.
“Now he is gone and we are at our ease,
And you can kill me where and how you please,”
The father says, “Where is it I must go?”
Then through the crowd a long thrill seems to flow,
The lips, so late with cruel wrath afoam,
Relentingly and roughly cry, “Go home!”
Lucy H. Hooper.