Alexandrian Sonnet 3 Poem by Alexandrian Ink

Oft times when I look at the little lads and lasses,
Who dwell in my cottage and within my vicinity,
Hitherto, melancholic raiment my heart possesses;
Casting fortune upon countenance and simplicity:
This one will be average, this one will not be short,
This one will be brave, the other witty,
This one and that one, from their visage will be full of sport
And to some, am drowned with a great pity.
Wondering if the morning is too early to predict the day
Or that first impression matters a lot
Or the earlier the better as our people used to say;
Ruminating on these the greater pity I got,
Within me this great pity do I stupendously feel the taste;
For venting on the uncertain while the certain lay waste.