It is a fate
One can’t relate
On any sunny day,
As times grow late
In struggles great
Your life shall while away
O to fight
For what is right
Needs two to join the fray
One in plight
With no respite
Shall surely lose the day
When in battle
Sabres rattle
In plurality
Quarrels heard
Have hope assured
Of some ordained treaty
One made nothing
Banned from friending
Ear of sympathy
Will ever fight
Without a sight
Of hope or remedy
Poetry