In poetry's fond verse we save
All matters of the heart,
Our thoughts that may be sweet or grave,
With which we'd hate to part.
Our fears of what may come to pass,
Our sadness at what has,
The desperate state of pain's impasse,
A human Alcatraz.
The lessons that pain teaches us,
Road signs, in fact to joy,
Our God's reforming animus,
Love's armor for schoolboy.
Remembering that pain serves man,
Is always hard to do,
Puts limits on outrageous plan,
Helps vanity subdue.
Our owning of the father God,
The highest we can reach,
Releasing our own dreams slipshod
For what He has to teach.