Poems (Ford)/A Hundred Years From Now
A HUNDRED YEARS FROM NOW.
The surging sea of human life forever onward rolls,
Bearing to the eternal shore each day its freight of souls;
But though our bark sails bravely on, pale Death sits at the prow,
And few shall know we ever lived a hundred years from now.
Bearing to the eternal shore each day its freight of souls;
But though our bark sails bravely on, pale Death sits at the prow,
And few shall know we ever lived a hundred years from now.
Oh, mighty human brotherhood, why fiercely war and strive,
While God's great world has ample space for every thing alive?
Broad fields, uncultured and unclaimed, are waiting for the plow
Of progress, that should make them bloom a hundred years from now.
While God's great world has ample space for every thing alive?
Broad fields, uncultured and unclaimed, are waiting for the plow
Of progress, that should make them bloom a hundred years from now.
Why should we toil so earnestly in life's short, narrow span,
On golden stairs to climb so high above our brother man?
Why blindly at an earthly shrine our souls in homage bow?
Our gods will rust, ourselves be dust a hundred years from now.
On golden stairs to climb so high above our brother man?
Why blindly at an earthly shrine our souls in homage bow?
Our gods will rust, ourselves be dust a hundred years from now.
Why prize so much the world's applause? Why dread so much its blame?
A fleeting echo is its voice of censure or of fame;
The praise that thrills the heart, the scorn that dyes with shame the brow,
Will be as long forgotten dreams a hundred years from now.
A fleeting echo is its voice of censure or of fame;
The praise that thrills the heart, the scorn that dyes with shame the brow,
Will be as long forgotten dreams a hundred years from now.
Earth's empires rise and fall, O Time! like breakers on thy shore;
They rush upon thy rocks of doom are seen, and seen no more;
The starry Wilderness of Worlds that gem night's radiant brow,
Will light the skies for other eyes a hundred years from now.
They rush upon thy rocks of doom are seen, and seen no more;
The starry Wilderness of Worlds that gem night's radiant brow,
Will light the skies for other eyes a hundred years from now.
O Thou before whose sleepless eyes the past and future stand
An open page, like babes we cling to Thy protecting hand;
Change, sorrow, death, are naught to us if we may safely bow
Beneath the shadow of Thy throne a hundred years from now.
An open page, like babes we cling to Thy protecting hand;
Change, sorrow, death, are naught to us if we may safely bow
Beneath the shadow of Thy throne a hundred years from now.