5/5/11
A fire cannot be cajoled,
To dampen down it's flames,
A mournful wind can't be consoled.
Hope stops not clouds nor rain.
There is no strength that can prevent,
The smallest wave's advance,
And no quick cure I can invent,
Will change my circumstance.
We are but wards in nature's care,
Enslaved by her design.
But, knowing this, and being fair,
She grants the gift of time.