Caroling Dusk/Little Son

For works with similar titles, see Little Son.
​

LITTLE SON

The very acme of my woe, The pivot of my pride,My consolation, and my hope Deferred, but not denied.The substance of my every dream, The riddle of my plight,The very world epitomized In turmoil and delight.

This article is issued from Wikisource. The text is available under Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 unless otherwise noted. Additional terms may apply for the media files.