"LO, THIS IS THE MAN—"
(Psalm 52)
Choose, ye forefathers of to-morrow, choose!
These easy ways there be
Uncluttered by the wrongs each other bears.
And warmly ye shall walk who can not see
How thin some other fellow's garment wears.
Nor need to notice whose.
Choose, ye stock-owners in to-morrow, choose!.
The road these others tread
Is littered deep with jetsam and the bones
Of their dishonored dead.
What altruism for defeat atones?
Have ye not much to lose?
Choose, ye inheritors of ages, choose!
What owe ye to the past?
The burly men who Magna Charta wrung
From tyranny entrenched would stand aghast
To see the ripples from that stone they flung.
They, too, had selfish views.
Choose, ye investors in the future, choose!
Ye need pick cautious odds;
To-morrow's fruit is seeded down to-day.
And unwise purpose like the unknown gods
Tempts on a wasteful way.
'Ware well what guide ye use!
