To My Child by Anne Campbell

You are the trip I did not take,
You are the pearls I did not buy,
You are my blue Italian lake,
You are my piece of foreign sky.

You are my Honolulu moon,
you are the book I did not write,
you are my heart’s unuttered tune,
you are a candle in my night.

You are the flower beneath the snow,
in my dark sky a bit of blue,
answering disappointment’s blow with
“I am happy! I have you!”

Anne Campbell, “The Poet of the Home” (1888-1984)

“Thousands of people know and love Anne Campbell, the only woman in this country who writes a poem a day. Here is a woman who is essentially a poet of the common-place. Her verses dramatize the contacts of every day. She writes of the home and all that it implies. She writes of children and does so with understanding, having two boys and a girl of her own (in private life she is Mrs. George W. Stark, wife of the dramatic critic of the Detroit News). In fact, her children’s poems, while they always possess an appeal for little ones, are written with the adult viewpoint. And she writes authoritatively of the farm and country, for she was born and reared in the back country of Michigan.

“Although Anne Campbell has written all her life, it was only three years (1920) ago that she attempted the task of writing a poem each day. At that time she was engaged for this work by the editor of the Detroit News. Her verse gained instant recognition, and soon a national newspaper organization began the distribution of her poems throughout the country.”

From a speaking brochure, c 1920, Source