The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill | ||
V
If only we were worthier foundOf the stout ball that bears us round!
New wants, new ways, pert plans of change,
New answers to old questions strange;
But to the older questions still
No new replies have come, or will.
New speed to buzz abroad and see
Cities where one needs not to be;
300
Or there to make great friendships come;
No novel way to seek or find
True hearts and the heroic mind.
Of atom force and chemic stew
Nor Socrates nor Cæsar knew,
But the old ages knew a plan—
The lost art—how to mould a man.
The poetical works of Edward Rowland Sill | ||