Last night I stood in a tawdry place <br />And watched the ways of the human race. <br />I looked at a party of shrieking girls <br />Piled on a table that whirls and whirls, <br />And saw them thrown in a tangled heap, <br />Sprawling and squirming and several deep. <br />And unto the wife who was standing by, <br />'These are all angels to be,' said I. <br /> <br />I followed the ways of the merry throng <br />And heard the laughter and mirth and song. <br />Into a barrel which turned and swayed <br />Men and women a journey made, <br />And tumbling together they seemed to be <br />Like so many porpoises out at sea- <br />Men and women who'd worked all day, <br />Eagerly seeking a chance to play. <br /> <br />'What do you make of it all?' she said. <br />I answered: 'The dead are a long time dead, <br />And care is bitter and duty stern, <br />And each must weep when it comes his turn. <br />And all grow weary and long for play, <br />So here is laughter to end the day. <br />Foolish? Oh, yes, it is that,' said I, <br />'But better the laugh than the dreary sigh. <br /> <br />'Now look at us here, for we're like them, too, <br />And many the foolish things we do. <br />We often grow silly and seek a smile <br />In a thousand ways that are not worth while; <br />Yet after the mirth and the jest are through, <br />We shall all be judged by the deeds we do, <br />And God shall forget on the Judgment Day <br />The fools we were in our hours of play.'<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/when-we-play-the-fool/
