Sonnet- When A Child

The saddest thing in life I know is when, I can’t prevent the death of a young child; All my years of learning seem a waste, then; My heart with anger fills; my mind grows wild. I shudder in myself and almost cry; Was there a freak chance of saving life, still? I ask myself, my God, the question 'Why; Death cruel stole the child's soul while still ill! ’Tis alright when an old man diseased dies; The bud had flowered; fruit was yet unripe; The child had not a speck or stain of vice; Who can the mother's lament ever wipe? Alas! None can query the act of God; He is the Wisest One; We are but clod!