I drove a golf-ball into the air;
It fell to earth, I knew not where;
For, so swiftly it flew, the sight
Could not follow it in its flight.
I lent five shillings to some men,
They spent it all, I know not when,
For who is quick enough to know
The time in which a crown may go?
Long, long afterward, in a whin
I found the golf-ball, black as sin;
But the five shillings are missing still!
They haven't turned up, and I doubt if they will.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
Some things you can give away and get back, like a golf ball...but greedy people like those who were 'lent 5 shillings' won't give it back. Greed is a mean one, it is.