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Portrait of the Artist as a Lone Tree


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Nursery: no rhyme, no reason

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Oh golden head that lies upon the bed,
why worry so?
Mother and father make your world complete.
What makes you shed your tears upon the sheet?
O where will blame for all your woes be laid?
Surely for good of all the rules were made -
protecting children, everyone counts dear.
How, in this day and age, could you know fear?

But everything that e'er was meant to be
a guard upon your innocence and joys
was muddled up by meddlers who see
their twisted interests served through girls and boys.
All their deliberations serve you ill -
proclaimed by fools who rule in wigs and gowns.
Who will lay down their life for Jack and Jill?
Who will restore their games, and broken crowns?

(Based on experience; tragically confirmed to be more generally true by readers. Some may find it hard to think this is how things work; but itís a lot harder for the children involved. Being too horrible to contemplate doesnít mean that a thing isnít true.)

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