My son! O my beloved son,With mind all split and fell undone.
He says that something rose to meet him,
Some sewer'd froth gushed up to greet him.
Forsooth he was a charmless child,
School-yard loner oft reviled.
Sad ill-favoured in his looks,
He retreated 'neath a drift of books.
Whence he learned the things he knew
I know not, yet his knowledge grew
'Til the foulest of all truths, they fell
Within his grasp, too bleak to tell.
And when he reached but sixteen years,
All shunned and shrugged off by his peers,
He took a knife and broke a vein
Whilst chanting o'er an open drain.
We're fools he says, unknowing ants,
Then weeps and drools and laughs and rants.
My son! O my beloved son,
With mind unknit and come undone.
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