My Fair Child,

Go bid farewell to life’s sweet summer blossoms

For Pillows and bobbins may comfort the ear

And man’s eloquence may be a sweet old dear

But they cannot hold your rusty little hands

Or summon your skill or strength to your command

Shake fear, Let it falter to the ground

Upon a thorny road whilst the nightingale chirps above

And the grasshopper labours hard down below

For, soon shall rise the morn from this prais’d old dawn

To guide your eyes through history’s printed and patterned lawn

Seek counsel so that you may creep over weeping foes

In Silence, Turning weakest of flaws through never be it told, never be it mourn’d

Capture every dormant Skill, every Intellect, Talent in your blood burrows

Awaiting not an Aid, but knowledge that Pamper’d you will not be in growth!

What is a Man behind his unkerchief’d neck and mincing stare?

He but Fears, Dreads and Doubts his Willing Hand! Not much prospect,

Though Pompous his air and Arrogance masks his glare

Darling, How blooms a man’s Esteem?

By Finding the Will that cannot be found,

And Becoming the World’s Wear of Envy

Small your lonely hands,

But Let it not tremble as you take this tremendous Oath,

For you are the Guardian of those Worthy of your care

A Force, Seldom Heard, Sometimes Seen, Ofttimes Felt

Be Pure of Mind My Child, But Be not Dumb,

Be Pure of Heart My Sweat, Be not Outsmart`d by the scum

Be Pure of Body My love, But Be not Lonesome

May Perfection, Purity, Beauty and Skill

All merge within you as one

With my blessings and a kiss for Good Luck



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