With ills the land is rife, with ills the sea,

Diseases haunt our frail humanity,

Through noon, through night, on casual wing they glide,

Silent⁠—a voice the power all-wise denied.

19

With ills the land is rife, with ills the sea, Diseases haunt our frail humanity, Through noon, through night, on casual wing they glide, Silent⁠—a voice the power all-wise denied. 19