Ii

It needs no thought to understand, No speech to tell, nor sight to see That there has come upon our land The curse of Inactivity.

We do not see the vital point That ’tis the eighth, most deadly, sin To wail, “The world is out of joint”-- And not attempt to put it in.

We see the swollen stream of crime Flow hourly past us, thick and wide; We gaze with interest for a time, And pass by on the other side.

We see the tide of human sin Rush roaring past our very door, And scarcely one man plunges in To drag the drowning to the shore.

We, dull and dreamy, stand and blink, Forgetting glory, strength and pride, Half--listless watchers on the brink, Half--ruined victims of the tide.