Tell me ye who worry
and tell me ye who fret
Has it ever made you money?
Has it ever helped you yet?
"Tis twenty times a thousand miles
around this earth and more
But still you think the unviverse
revolves around your door;
Ten billion creatures such as you
have lived, and loved and died~
How can you feel that just for you
eternal things abide?
You brilliant sun which seems so small
yet give the light of day
Is ten times from this tiny ball
nine million miles away.
And, far beyond its rays
there are planets such as this
by creatures who live in ignorant bliss
That other myriad sun beyond
with whirling satelites
Has each its seasons and its times,
its passing, days and nights~
consider the immensity of space
Then say how you can boast
that you're a child of grace:
Consider. Was there e'er a time
ere time began?
And can there be an end to time
tho ther's an end to man?
If you feel that you're important
and far above the brute
Fare forth some night when skies are bright
and stars across them shoot.
There ponder well how frail you are,
how insecure your place
If earth should quit her orbit
and fly outward into space,
Then tell me why you worry
and tell me why you fret
When it never saved a kingdom
or helped a mortal yet.
© O. E. Enfield