Round and round goes the history machine -
dazzling with old plots new generations;
ancient scripts repeated in the nations;
the wheel revolves again, to set the scene.
In argument you endlessly debate,
scoffing at thoughts just twenty summers old;
but eyes that scan the hist'ry books are told
the future's just the past played out of date.
Though every father bent his back for you,
building a better world for later days,
forgotten forbears wonder at your ways -
and waking from their sleep would know the view.
Although you hail the freshness of your plan,
no scheme is left to come anew to man.