Lying about in the dust,
And many a noble and lofty aim
Covered with mould and dust
And oh, this place, while it seems so near,
Is further away than the moon;
Though our purpose is fair, yet we never get there—
To the land of “Pretty Soon.”
The roads that lead to that mystic land
Are strewn with pitiful wrecks;
And the ships that have sailed for its shining strand