Laughter and grief join hands. Always the heart Clumps in the breast with heavy stride; The face grows lined and wrinkled like a chart, The eyes bloodshot with tears and tide. Let the wind blow, for many a man shall die.
Karl ShapiroThe body, what is it, Father, but a sign To love the force that grows us, to give back What in Thy palm is senselessness and mud?
Karl Shapiro