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!