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?