Poem November 8, 1958 ISSUE

WITH NEW TONGUES

Pearl Strachan Hurd

Beth, proud of her ability nowTo count up to ten,Arranging her squadronOf metal spacemenIn a stiff-legged row,Beth sure of far moreThan I was whenI dragged my doll across the floor,Meets a challenge.

(Things can seem askewEven if you haven't yetStruggled with the alphabet.)For a moment I wish I knewThe best way to adviseSomebody only four.But while I am gropingComes her crisp: "I know.I'll ask God. She'll tell meWhat to do."

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