Which all do crave, and never boot;
They kept their cadence to a flute,
Which only wisdom seeks to mute.
They slid to slide their sliding sleigh
Toward goals, but met a fray;
And, striking, struck the striking broil;
And found themselves to winds a spoil.
They swung to swing their swinging life
To higher spheres and lusty fife;
But flung against the sturdy cliff,