Gambit

Bat-blind to looming gripe and cold decay, Clueless shoots jump onto life's gay stage, Oblivious of Grim Fate's scything designs That waste with disease and stealing age. They wouldn't turn around and at once behold Slowly waning sires with mean griefs to scold. Youth's full plate such wanton cheers parades, That no eye can see sly time's thievish shades. Thus enchanted our pleasure-lured victims file Onto glum podiums whereon their sires stood; Dancing to selfsame tunes of deaded antiquity, Decoyed by vanity's unedited rhythmical mood. While earth's tetchy wheel of raw fun yet turns, One in the numbed lot in death's embers burns. To decry such brazenness by that spiteful foe, Smitten hordes seethe and writhe in brief woe. In the end every joy-craving dancer sadly goes, And green offspring pop in to follow their toes.