Classic Poem

An age of petty tit-for-tat,
An age of busy gabble;
An age that like a brewer's vat
Is bursting for the rabble.

An age too fast, an age too slow
An age of vast abuses:
When gentlemen & ladies grow
Too dainty for their uses.

An age that drives an iron horse:
Of earth & skies defiant:
Exulting in a Giant force
& trembling at the Giant.

An age of Quaker hue & cut,
That bows to Kings of Cotton:
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By Mammon misbegotten.

An age that [blank ]
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Deep-dungeon'd in its own conceit,
A drunkard's elevation.

An age of which to hope the best,
Will learn it once was crazy: