MODERN PHILOSOPHER

They fight your battles for you every day,

The zealous ones, who sorrow in your life.

Undaunted by a century of strife,

With urgent fingers still they point the way

To drawing rooms, in decorous array,

And moral Heavens where no casual wife

May share your lot; where dice and ready knife

Are barred; and feet are silent when you pray.

But you have music in your shuffling feet,

And spirituals for a lenient Lord,

Who lets you sing your promises away.

You hold your sunny corner of the street,

And pluck deep beauty from a banjo chord:

Philosopher whose future is today!