We Thought, Because We Had Power, We

God Pity Us Indeed, For We Are Human, And Do Not Always See, The Vision When It Comes, The Shining Change, Or, If We See It, Do Not Follow It, Because It Is Too Hard, Too Strange, Too New, Too Unbelievable, Too Difficult, Warring Too Much With Common, Easy Ways, And Now I Know This, Standing In This Light, Who Have Been Half Alive These Many Years, Brooding On My Own Sorrow, My Own Pain, Saying "i Am A Barren Bough. Expect, Nor Fruit Nor Blossom From A Barren Bough."

Money Is Sullen And Wisdom Is Sly, But Youth Is The Pollen That Blows Through The Sky And Does Not Ask Why.

Our Earth Is But A Small Star In A Great Universe. Yet Of It We Can Make, If We Choose, A Planet Unvexxed By War, Untroubled By Hunger Or Fear, Undivided By Senseless Distinctions Of Race, Color Or Theory.

Outcasts Of War, Misfits, Rebellious Souls, Seekers Of Some Vague Kingdom In The Stars - They Hide Out In The Hills And Stir Up Trouble, Call Themselves Prophets, Too, And Prophesy, That Something New Is Coming To The World, The Lord Knows What! Well, It's A Long Time Coming, And, Meanwhile, We're The Wheat Between The Stones.

Life Was A Storm To Wander Through.