I wrote this down to forget it
But it was that which could not be forgot
Did this book cause me to admit it
To admit that which I could not?
A father is known by his children
And his children by him just as well
For whoever just might behold them
Could then this parable tell;
If our father was Wisdom
And his children were the Virtues of all
How is it that we have missed them
That they do not come if we call?
Perhaps we are just in our sentence
And maybe are true in our lies
For to our father we would not have done this
If our father had truly been wise.
