Our Choice

 

When the words of Knowledge come,

We stuff our ears with jazz and pop,

And listen to guitar and drum;

With folly's cotton-wool we stop

The songs within us, and rejoice

Over our modern uncouth choice.

 

And often when a seer deep

Comes by some wisdom to impart,

We choke the air with banter cheap,

And suffocate the waiting heart;

And think how very cleverly

We've shut out immortality.

 

This is the way our world goes round,

Full speed in giddy pomp and show;

Our ignorance remains profound,

While we believe and boast we know.

God knows! we choose the deepest hole,

To break our neck or wreck our soul.

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