Life
The race of the baby is not apt to last long!
Bare foot upon an ancient trail;
But now and then an elder sets the course.
The dignitaries have risen!
Have taken their place.
Does she become a chaste woman?
Unable to be photographed or reproduced;
Not her features or expression,
Nor the wondrous light which she bares.
For life is least vital of herself!
Her present is a Husk.
Her past a romance.
Her future unknown!
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