These things wondering I saw beneath the sun:
That never yet the race was to the swift,
The fight unto the mightiest to lift,
Nor favors unto men whose skill had done
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Moira said it best. This is indeed a beautiful sonnet, and the message is right on.
She has a soft, haunting way with her words and her words are not idle, but wise like women are wise- - - - - -] All is drift Of time and chance, and none may stay or sift Or know the end of that which is begun.