Robert Kirklan Kernighan

25 April 1854 – 3 November 1926 / Ontario

Kiss Me Papa

' Kiss me, papa' but the father,

Troubled racked -with worldly care,
Hurried out alone impatient-
Left his blue-eyed baby there.

' Kiss me, papa' he could hear it
Hear the baby voice so sweet ;

' Kiss me, papa,' still he heard it
Ringing down the busy street.

All day long, amid the frenzy
Of the mighty city's roar,

He could hear his baby pleading-
Pleading till his heart grew sore.

All day long the smile of fortune
Filled his worldly soul with joy ;

Then at night, with pulses bounding,
Home he sped to meet his boy.

Home he came. The mother voiceless-
Led him to the well-known bed :

There, mid roses, crushed and fragrant,
Lay his baby, cold and dead !
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