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The saddest thing in life I know is when,
I can’t prevent the death of a young child;
All my years of learning seem a waste, then;
My heart with anger fills; my mind grows wild.
I shudder in myself and almost cry;
Was there a freak chance of saving life, still?
I ask myself, my God, the question 'Why;
Death cruel stole the child's soul while still ill!
’Tis alright when an old man diseased dies;
The bud had flowered; fruit was yet unripe;
The child had not a speck or stain of vice;
Who can the mother's lament ever wipe?
Alas! None can query the act of God;
He is the Wisest One; We are but clod!
Dr John Celes
Read poems about / on: child, anger, death, mother, god, life, heart, sonnet, flower, children
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