Alas! Hadst i left the pebble nay.
A wasted reprise; waves on the water sway.
The ant lays anguished in tatters,
For now its parenthood jolted,
As empty stomachs await; gasping and famished.
A musical curse; for no language it speaks,
Renders my conscience dented;
My aims mocked.
Raptly my eyes call for the grain.
Tide it calls but tiny ripples;
Enjoying each rise and ebb.
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