The Gains of Time
Reading edition
The Gains of Time
Loll’d in the lap of home;
Full-fed with fruits of time
Ripen’d on labour’d loam
By others, since the prime;
Ingrate, we give no thought
To all these golden things
The toiling past hath brought,
The toiling present brings.
But on this silent shore
And waste barbarian,
We hear the engines roar
And mind the might of man.
So one in savage lands:
He enters all alone;
No weapon in his hands.
The secret spears unthrown,
The creepers lose their guile,
Seeing his face, distrest
They know not why. A smile,
A sign or two, a jest,
And all on bended knees
Withhold the savage stroke.
With beating heart he sees
The lessening steamer-smoke.
He draws a power to be
From powers sacrificed;
And in his eyes we see
The teaching of the Christ,
And all the great beside,
The oracles of time
From Delphic clefts have cried
Or crasht in thundering rhyme.
A book his finger parts;
He moves thro’ adverse cries;
Master of many arts
And careless of the skies.
What are thy mighty deeds,
O Past, thy gains, O Time?
A dust of ruin’d creeds,
A scroll or two of rhyme?
A temple earthquake-dasht?
A false record of things?
A picture lightning-flasht
Of cruel eyes of kings?
No, these: a wiser rule;
A science of ampler span;
A heart more pitiful;
More mind; a nobler man.