Classic Poem

THE PLAYING BOY

Games, child, in the womb! On the Holy Island
Find the cloudy grief, the worry is not you,
Loving mother holding up her arms over the abyss,
And in the flooding grave you smile innocently down
Games, sweet innocence! Still Arcadia is about you,
And the great outdoors only follows the joyous impulse,
Still, the hearty force creates fictitious barriers,
And the consent courage still missing the duty and the purpose
Games, soon will come the work that hag're, serious,
And the imperious duty lack the desire and the courage.