In Time

'In good time, when I am ready, Wondrous schemes shall I unfold; But we must be cautious, steady, Cleaving to the safe and old. Patience, prudence must prevail; They who venture often fail.' Thus the politician, weakly Of the big things of the State; While the patient public, meekly Wait, and ever hopeful, wait; While he slyly woos their vote With shrewd turnings of his coat. But, in time, when other people Populate this troubled world, Lo, from housetop and from steeple, Futile curses will be hurled Curses on the shiftless ones, Feckless robbers of their sons. When the last good tree has withered In an arid, rainless clime, Then the weary soul who blithered Of the verdancy of Time Will grow restless in his grave, While his baulked descendants rave. They will curse the generation That has beggared them by stealth; Curse the mad procrastination That has robbed the land of wealth Wealth their foolish fathers spent, Reckless and improvident. 'What care we?' declare the spoilers. 'We have ample for to-day! Other ages, other toilers Let them suffer as they may. Let the nation's hope be killed, That our bellies may be filled! 'If to-day our wealth be doubled, If to-day our trade be good, Why should we be plagued and troubled With vague dreams of nationhood? For our selfish purpose we Gaily rob prosperity.' Robbers of coming race, Glibly crying 'In good time.' If one good ye had to face Sons, and answer for your crime, With that cry still in your throats, How, then, would ye scheme for votes?