Lord, Who Hears Each Old Wretch (Its Cry Within) Poem by james watkin
Lord, Who Hears Each Old Wretch (Its Cry Within)
Facing, doubly inconsolable
These life came to condemn
As no sweet thing to dally with
Though first of praises, kisses soaked
There, now locked behind them
Their shame, a mercy-pled cynic's
Softened: 'Turn back around.
Something grander, with child-like joy
To be accessed, dear child of mine
Awaits. O Heaven-bound! '
Sunday, February 26, 2023
Topic(s) of this poem: old,cynicism
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5/16/2024 1:03:39 AM # 1.0.0.1119
