Classic Poem

Bend now thy body to the common weight:
— (But oh, that vine-clad head, those limbs of morn!
Those proud young shoulders, I myself made straight!
— How shall ye wear the yoke that must be worn?)

Look thou, my son, what wisdom comes to thee:
— (But oh, that singing mouth, those radiant eyes!
Those dancing feet — that I myself made free!
— How shall I sadden them to make them wise?)

Nay, then, thou shalt! Resist not — have a care!
— (Yea, I must work my plans who sovereign sit;
Yet do not tremble so! I cannot bear —
— Though I am God — to see thee so submit!)