Childhood Lament

Whereupon the earth's cold soil
Beast may live and man must toil

A child knows not what's the matter
To them life is but a tasty platter

Piled high each day and night
With love and play and sweet delight

Of all the woes they know not many
Their lives are but a blissful cranny

'Tis good I say that children play
And not be bothered by the day

Their innocence will soon be lost
And not without a highly cost

For when that joyful time's no more
Alas, a man is very poor