“What, oh mortal, do you hear,
A cry of a lark so loud, so near?
Yet far from complete this lark does sound
To all other mortals on the ground.”
“Oh wise, oh good, I do but hear
The soft whistful sound of a love so dear.
A mother’s cry, a father’s moan,
For sadly now, their child is gone.”
“I pary thee mortal – tell no more lies,
For though the child’s not in their eyes
A mother and father they’ll always be
To the child loved so much they cannot be.”