The Present Time

This is no age for mystery,
But full of eventful history;
Not a time for stupid dreaming,
When the lightning it is gleaming.

A brighter light doth now surpass,
And throws in shade once favored gas;
Now it is not an idle dream,
Predicting greater power than steam.

But perhaps it is not wise
For us to philosophise,
As we might get in water deep,
Or find a hill for us too steep.

Some think it is almost a crime
To write a simple kind of rhyme
That every one can understand;
They love a style is lofty, grand.

Which no one can comprehend;
Without beginning or an end,
And if it only is obscure,
To them it is a proof full sure.

The authors have a mighty mind,
And to philosophy inclined;
They adore the metaphysical,
And humble thoughts do them appal.

But though our style it may seem rude,
We love for to be understood;
And though we have no skill nor art,
We hope to reach some honest heart.

Our old style walk will soon he gone,
In place of wood wo will have stone;
And water works from lofty tower
Blessings on the town will shower.