 | The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") |  |
THE QUARREL OF THE WHEELS.
I sat within my wagon on a heated summer day,
And watched my horse's flinging feet devour the dusty way,
When suddenly a voice below shrieked out, it seemed to me—
“You're bigger, but you cannot go one half so fast as we!”
And watched my horse's flinging feet devour the dusty way,
When suddenly a voice below shrieked out, it seemed to me—
“You're bigger, but you cannot go one half so fast as we!”
I looked around, but no one there my straining vision caught;
We were alone upon the road; I must have dreamed, I thought:
Then almost at my feet I heard, distinct, a voice's sound—
“You'll never overtake us, though you twice go o'er the ground!”
We were alone upon the road; I must have dreamed, I thought:
Then almost at my feet I heard, distinct, a voice's sound—
“You'll never overtake us, though you twice go o'er the ground!”
It puzzled me at first, but soon the fact upon me broke—
The fore-wheels of the wagon had thus to the hind-wheels spoke.
I listened for the answer, and it came in accents low—
“You're no farther now before us than you were an hour ago!”
The fore-wheels of the wagon had thus to the hind-wheels spoke.
635
“You're no farther now before us than you were an hour ago!”
I waited the rejoinder, but no farther answer came;
The fore-wheels were too busy, and the hind-wheels were the same;
And though I strained my hearing much, depressing well my head,
By fore-wheels or by hind-wheels not another word was said.
The fore-wheels were too busy, and the hind-wheels were the same;
And though I strained my hearing much, depressing well my head,
By fore-wheels or by hind-wheels not another word was said.
The matter set me thinking how in life one often knows
Of bitter controversies with the words absurd as those;
How many claim as merit what is after all but fate,
With success that others make for them exultingly elate.
Of bitter controversies with the words absurd as those;
How many claim as merit what is after all but fate,
With success that others make for them exultingly elate.
Your wise and mighty statesman just before his fellow set,
Strives, as fore-wheel in the wagon, farther from the hind to get;
Rolls along in his complacence, as he thinks, to name and fame,
To find, the journey ended, his position just the same.
Strives, as fore-wheel in the wagon, farther from the hind to get;
Rolls along in his complacence, as he thinks, to name and fame,
To find, the journey ended, his position just the same.
The patient toiler struggles, but no inch beyond is gained;
And he grumbles that, despite him, one position is maintained—
Not reflecting that the Owner who can everything control,
Bade him ever as the hindmost for a fitting purpose roll.
And he grumbles that, despite him, one position is maintained—
Not reflecting that the Owner who can everything control,
Bade him ever as the hindmost for a fitting purpose roll.
Still speeds along the wagon by the steady roadster drawn,
Till ends the weary journey, and the light of day has gone;
And all the rivalries of men, the quiet thinker feels,
Are idle as the quarrels of the fore and hinder wheels.
Till ends the weary journey, and the light of day has gone;
And all the rivalries of men, the quiet thinker feels,
Are idle as the quarrels of the fore and hinder wheels.
| The select poems of Dr. Thomas Dunn English (exclusive of the "Battle lyrics") | |