Thoughts on a young race
What will we be in days to come
When threads of time slip round the sun
Will we still fight for hearth and home
Or will we stretch our minds and run?
What will we be when we grow old
When knowledge breaks through passion's hold?
Will we expand through space so cold
With wings of dreams and hearts of gold?
Will we put off our foolish ways
Of death and doom and pointless praise?
Or will we end in early days?
And never unto glory raise?
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