A Psalm of Patience
O kid! with face of healthy tan,
With lunch-bag, books and slate;
You needn’t long to be a man,
Self-confident and great;
For ever since the world began
Each boy must spring to Nature’s plan,
Must worry through as best he can—
Make up your mind to Wait.
O young galoot! you find it rough—
This iron hand of Fate!
Your confidence is mostly bluff,
And doubts preponderate—
Are you the genuine all-wool stuff?
Are you a daisy or a muff?—
Patience! you’ll find out soon enough,
If you can only Wait.
O baffled bloke! with no resource!
Whose knowledge comes too late;
Whose prospects change from bad to worse,
Till Hope gives place to Hate!
Sick of existence, and perforce
Impatient for the long divorce—
You’ll get your call in proper course,
Take my advice, and Wait.
O geezer! drawing near the test
That none may obviate;
Don’t waste your time in fruitless quest
Re man’s post-mortem state.
That doubt will soon be set at rest—
You’ll be extinguish’d, grill’d, or blest,
Or spook the world from east to west.
Meanwhile, you have to Wait.
