A thousand years from now, how will this earth
Conduct itself? Will there be wars, and men
Inventing things? Or will there be a dearth
Of ideas (such as we feel, now and then?)
Nobody knows. We can surmise, perchance—
But glancing that far oft is quite some glance!
A thousand years from now—in Time's swift flight—
The aeroplane itself may be passe,
And transportation on a beam of light
The natural and the ordinary way.
Men may have bodies made of metals cold
To match the hearts and brains those bodies hold!
A thousand years from now—why should we care
What Science then brings forth—we won't be here
To worry over things or to compare
The present with our past—won't that be queer?
But men, as now, will hope (as we have done)
That each new year will be a better one!
UNDERSTOOD
Out of the ruck and the roar of life
He stepped aside to rest one day,
And the flowers that grew along the way
Lifted him out of the wearisome strife
That had claimed his every waking thought
For years ... and a miracle had been wrought!
"Why have I never seen the rose
Just as a rose before?" asked he.
"Always its cost was the point to me,
And not its sweetness! Do you suppose
That all these years—how long, God knows!—
I really have not understood the rose?"
Walking along the quiet street
He noted a sick and fretting child;
And he waved his hand and paused and smiled
Till the baby laughed—and its laugh was sweet.
His eyes were dim as his hand he kissed
To the child, and he whispered, "And that I have missed!"
To the end of the day that was full of care
The song in his heart was strong and new,
And the woman who loved him heard it too:
"Now that his soul is awake, I dare
Hope that he understands me," she said;
But I fear he didn't—until he was dead!
THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT
"A Merry Christmas!" You who make each day
A little less unhappy for some soul
Weighted with sorrow; you who have been gay
For others' sake—although you paid the toll
In the still watches of the weary night,
Fighting despair. You who have faced the world
With spirit and put cowardice to flight;
You, with your rugged banner still unfurled—
"A Merry Christmas!" For in you I see
The Vision of the Man that I would be!