'Tis strange indeed to hear us plead For selling and for buying When yesterday we said: "Away With all good things but dying." The world's ago, and we're agog To have our first brief inning; So let's away through surge and fog However slight the winning. What deeds have sprung from plow and pick! What bank-rolls from tomatoes! No dainty crop of rhetoric Can match one of potatoes. Ye orators of point and pith, Who force the world to heed you, What skeletons you'll journey with Ere it is forced to feed you. A little gold won't mar our grace, A little ease our glory. This world's a better biding place When money clinks its story. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHEN LOVE GOES by SARA TEASDALE DOWN-HILL ON A BICYCLE by LOUIS UNTERMEYER LYRICS TO IANTHE (2). LAMENT by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR THE SOUND OF THE SEA; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW PAN IN WALL STREET by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN |