A Human Baby’s like a sailor washed up on a beach

   By the battering of the surf, naked, lacking the power

of  speech,

Possessing no mean of survival, when first Nature pours

Him forth with birth-pangs from his mother’s womb

upon Light’s shores.

He fills the room up with his sorrowful squalls, and

rightly so! –

Just think what lies in store for him, Life’s full supply of woe.

 

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