In a Dozen Years From Now

From the Rock Island Argus, November 17, 1913. By Henry Howland.

We’ll all flit ‘round in aeroplanes
    In a dozen years from now;
We may have done with aches and pains
    In a dozen years from now.
Great ships will pass through Panama,
Baseball games may have ceased to draw,
And ma may vote instead of pa
    In a dozen years from now.

We may have blotted out disease
    In a dozen years from now;
We may have bridged the broadest seas
    In a dozen years from now;
New York may fully understand
That west of Jersey there’s a land
Containing cities great and grand,
    In a dozen years from now.

Caruso may have ceased to sing
    In a dozen years from now;
Men may be sick of traveling
    In a dozen years from now.
No more divorces may be sought,
The last big fight may have been fought,
And guides may cease from being shot,
    In a dozen years from now.

Vice may no longer keep us vexed
    In a dozen years from now;
We may have Mexico annexed
    In a dozen years from now.
The cost of living may be low;
It isn’t very likely, though,
That those who work will think it so
    In a dozen years from now.

War may be banished from the earth
    In a dozen years from now;
Men may be measured by their worth
    In a dozen years from now.
But doubtless there will still survive
Men who will fret when others thrive,
And two and two will not make five
    In a dozen years from now.