LACHRYOMOSA
I sometimes think that children
are the enemy, drawing everything
else down with them : Parents who
weep, and the Parson who moans.
All things come together, eventually,
to equal nothing, and there is no
optimism like the good-hearted
young? It's got to be the other way
around, though. All things fade and
wither as the moments pass away.
Precedence can't be given to happy
youth if - at the other end - gravitas
is not granted to the aged.
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