Remark on mindless fervours

OH, you sphinxes of the old, everlasting earth,
Your green world tumbles and orbits the sun;
Your pale moon tumbles and orbits the earth;
Yet below the spheres of your light, some men
Still tumble and orbit the old race-course.
Do they think themselves celestial orbs too,
Hurtling mindlessly along endless paths,
With little care and even less regrets?
OH, you all-knowing sphinxes, tell me this,
Do you think we have yet to grow tired,
That like children we still loudly applaud and boo,
When a flaming chariot is seen, tumbling
Towards high walls, whilst all the audience
Laughs and marvels at such a strange sight?
Or perhaps you think, that we have grown old already
And are like the idle old men, with nothing better to do
Than to bet on the course of the burning wheel,
Or analyse the machinations of some captive youths,
Running towards an inferno, barefoot and with no regrets?
I assure you it is not so, for we have seen it all before,
And besides, all this bread has grown stale,
And our tastes have drifted, like some heavy old clouds.
SO let the moon and earth tumble and orbit, mindless as they are;
But tell me, oh sphinxes, should we not do better?