A thousand years from now, how will this earth
Conduct itself? Will there be wars, and men
Inventing things? Or will there be a dearth
Of ideas (such as we feel, now and then?)
Nobody knows. We can surmise, perchance--
But glancing that far oft is quite some glance!
A thousand years from now--in Time's swift flight--
The aeroplane itself may be passe,
And transportation on a beam of light
The natural and the ordinary way.
Men may have bodies made of metals cold
To match the hearts and brains those bodies hold!
A thousand years from now--why should we care
What Science then brings forth--we won't be here
To worry over things or to compare
The present with our past--won't that be queer?
But men, as now, will hope (as we have done)
That each new year will be a better one!