A Plain Man's Dream

Were i transported to some distant star With fifty little children, girls and boys, Or to some fabled land unknown, afar, Where never sound could come of this world’s noise; Our world begun anew, as when of yore Sad Adam fled from Eden; I alone The sole custodian of all human lore,— No books to aid, all rules and records gone,— What could I teach each tender, untaught child? How much of this world’s wisdom could I give To raise him from the savage, fierce and wild, And train each soul a worthy life to live? Plain human speech, some simple laws of life, A little tillage, household arts a few; The law of rectitude o’ercoming strife; Things clean and sane, the simple and the true. But of Man’s long, slow climb from Error’s reach,— The hard-won, precious wisdom of the ages,— What (and, alas, how little!) could I teach Which changes men from savages to sages? Some things I ’ve known I never would impart. Somewhat I ’d tell of building, writing, preaching; Some hints I ’d give on healing, science, art; Love they would learn full soon without my teaching!