Comments about Rita Jette
The Frailty Of Life
As the grass does wither, and soon fades away,
So the frail life here, in its limited day.
As the wind blows hither, and then goes its way,
So man in his sphere, visits a limited day.
As the clock ticks thither,
and pleads will not sway,
So death comes to gather.
The frail life in its day.