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Age of the Motored Things

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<h2>THE AGE OF MOTORED THINGS</h2> ELLA WHEELER WILCOX. The wonderful age of the world I sing— The age of battery, coil and spring, Of steam, and storage, and motored thing. Though faith may slumber and art seem dead, And all that is spoken has once been said, And all that is written were best unread; Though hearts are iron and thoughts are steel, And all that has value is mercantile, Yet marvellous truths shall the age reveal. Ay, greater the marvels this age shall find Than all the centuries left behind, When faith was a bigot and art was blind. Oh, sorry the search of the world for gods, Through faith that slaughters and art that lauds, While reason sits on its throne and nods. p. 137But out of the leisure that men will know, When the cruel things of the sad earth go, A Faith that is Knowledge shall rise and grow. In the throb and whir of each new machine Thinner is growing the veil between The visible earth and the worlds unseen. The True Religion shall leisure bring; And Art shall awaken and Love shall sing: Oh, ho! for the age of the motored thing! <h2>NEW YEAR</h2> Mortal:    ‘The night is cold, the hour is late, the world is bleak and drear;    Who is it knocking at my door?’ The New Year:    ‘I am Good Cheer.’ Mortal:    ‘Your voice is strange; I know you not; in shadows dark I grope.    What seek you here?’ The New Year:    ‘Friend, let me in; my name is Hope.’ Mortal:    ‘And mine is Failure; you but mock the life you seek to bless.    Pass on.’ The New Year:    ‘Nay, open wide the door; I am Success.’ Mortal:    ‘But I am ill and spent with pain; too late has come your wealth.    I cannot use it.’ The New Year:    ‘Listen, friend; I am Good Health.’ Mortal:    ‘Now, wide I fling my door.  Come in, and your fair statements prove.’ The New Year:    ‘But you must open, too, your heart, for I am Love.’ <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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