poem by Michael Sauls
The anguish of youth without direction
is oft the engine of their destruction
thus so many tragic tales of waste
even as the tree grown wild
with bitter fruit, sparse and vile
that fall to the ground rotting in disgrace
Woe unto that nefarious institution
which pilfers away parental instruction
and from God’s love leads the young astray
instruction, direction young minds to form
much like a light house in the storm
without it many traps and snares await.
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