Mercy
Mercy has a fleeting heart,
to those that dare to see.
It does not know right from wrong,
it only knows pity.
To others it is shapeless,
never to be found.
For in the hearts of children,
to some it is abound.
It comes to those who need it most,
only when they die.
You see it in the hearts of man,
when they stop to cry.
By
Josehf Lloyd Murchison
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem