Wooden Sailor
Wooden sailor swinging war clubs
On my lawn with furious tempo,
Like the Don of Spanish legend
He of old, who braved the windmills
Looming up like giants, charged them
Splintering his lance and bruising
His frail bones on mad illusions;
You resemble him - bold warrior,
Struggling with the summer breezes,
Lunging at the clouds above you.
But your ludicrous gyrations
In my yard, your droll gymnastics
Point a world of deeper meaning,
For we too, are often harried
By imaginary perils;
Spend the years in aimless striving
Wearying the heart and sinews
On fantastic undertakings;
Cursed by impotent endeavor
Unproductive, never-ending.
If we smile at your contortions
Toiling furiously for - nothing
It is less in mirth than sadness.
For I fear we fail to equal
Your stout heart and resolution
Wigwagging your bold defiance.
Yes, while we are battling shadows,
Wasting life in futile effort,
Can we wonder that the angels
Grieve in Heaven at our folly?