A new born babe I cradle in my arms.
Is his future planned ahead of him?
I’ll do my best to keep this boy from harm
And guide his steps in life. Bit if the whim
Of fate can do to him whate’er it will,
How can I change the path he walks in life?
This babe may be a murderer doomed to kill,
He may grow up a drunk who beats his wife.
Little boy, whom fate has sent to me,
How can I protect you from the world?
I cannot keep you ever on my knee,
Safe and happy in a blanket furled.
Tiny child I do not know your fate,
If you were born to love or born to hate.
–Stephen P. Smith
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