 | Drifted in |  |
Nought can compete with an infant's cry!
For Nature has given that callow voice
The rasp of an uncloaked sorrow: 'tis why,
Whoever may or may not stand by,
It leaves most mortals but little choice.
That wail of helplessness, kings obey:
It will forever be given its way.
For Nature has given that callow voice
The rasp of an uncloaked sorrow: 'tis why,
Whoever may or may not stand by,
It leaves most mortals but little choice.
That wail of helplessness, kings obey:
It will forever be given its way.
| Drifted in | |