O what a noisy world it is!
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Such shriek of news—yet nothing new;
Or is it I that am amiss,
Or does it seem the same to you?
If "peace" meant only "quiet" too!
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Behind the times I know I am,
But what is a tired man to do?
I light my pipe, and read Charles Lamb.
So small our gain, so much we miss,
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For still the old remains the true,
Spake even wiser than he knew;
With all our feverish to-do,
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Air-ship and wireless telegram,
Life's much the same,—and, entre nous,
I light my pipe, and read Charles Lamb.
Though names may change from That to This,
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The "historic times we're living through"
Were writ in ancient histories;
It is the same old human brew,
With just a little change or two;
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Our progress is the same old sham—
The same old ship, the same old crew—
I light my pipe, and read Charles Lamb.
Prince, bide your time, be not too blue,
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Though you the "Soviets" bedamn,—
The world is not quite all yahoo;
Just light your pipe, and read Charles Lamb.