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<ins class="caption">METHUSELAH</ins> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/i_017.jpg" height-obs="640" width-obs="235" alt="Methuselah with his staff." /></div> <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> Methuselah lived long ago— He was the Old Inhabitant Those times, but never had a show; His opportunities were scant. Although he lived nine centuries And three-score years and nine beside, The times he saw were not like these, A chance to spread he was denied. </div> <div class="stanza"> He could not seek the corner store And lunch on crackers, cheese and prunes, And there display his helpful lore Through mornings and through afternoons; He could not talk about the days When folks first saw the telegraph Or telephone; how their amaze Made better posted people laugh. </div> <div class="stanza"> He could not take the stranger out To some tall building, then say: "Here, An' for a good ways hereabout, I used to shoot the bear and deer." Skyscrapers were an unknown thing, Excepting Babel, in his land, And Babel only served to bring Speech that he could not understand. </div> <div class="stanza"> (Perhaps this Babel item is Anachronistic; as to that We'll say one pleasant thing was his: He never had to rent a flat.) Another joy in his career Was this: nobody ever told Methuselah the stated year When he should be considered old. </div> <div class="stanza"> At thirty-five he was not barred From working if he wanted to; He did not need a union card His daily labors to pursue; And when his hair was snowy white And age his manly form had bent, Nobody called him young and bright And ran him for vice-president. </div> </div> <div style="clear: both;"></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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