Misrepresentative Women — The Cry of the Elders
_The Cry of the Elders_ [With steady but increasing pace the world is approaching a point at which the cleverness of the young will amount to a social problem.
Already things are getting uncomfortable for persons of age and sobriety, whose notion of happiness is to ruminate a few solid and simple ideas in freedom from disturbance.
--_Macmillan’s Magazine.
_] O my Children, do you hear your elders sighing?
Do you wonder that senility should find Your encyclopædic knowledge somewhat trying To the ordinary mind?
In the heyday of a former generation, Some respect for our intelligence was shown;
And it’s hard for us to cotton To the fact that _you’ve_ forgotten More than _we_ have ever known!
O my Children, do you hear your elders snoring, When the “chassis” of your motors you discuss?
Do you wonder that your “shop” is rather boring To such simple souls as us?
[1] Do you marvel that your dreary conversation Should evoke the yawns that “lie too deep for tears,” When you lecture to your betters About “tanks” and “carburettors,” About “sparking-plugs” and “gears”?
O my Children, in the season of your nonage, (Which delightful days no longer now exist!
) We could join with other fogeys of our own age In a quiet game of whist.
_Now_, at bridge, our very experts are defeated By some beardless but impertinent young cub, Who converts our silent table To a very Tow’r of Babel, At the Knickerbocker Club!
O my Children, we no longer are respected!
’Tis a fact we older fellows must deplore, Whose opinions and whose judgments are neglected, As they never were before.
We may tender good advice to our descendants;
We may offer them our money, if we will;
Lo, the one shall be forsaken, And the other shall be taken (Like the women at the mill!
).
O my Children, note the moral (like a kernel) I have hidden in the centre of my song!
Do not contradict a relative maternal, If she happens to be wrong!
Be indulgent to the author of your being;
Never show him the contempt that you must feel;
Treat him tolerantly, rather, Since a man who is _your_ father Can’t be wholly imbecile!
O my Children, we, the older generation, At whose feet you ought (in theory) to sit, Are bewildered by your mental penetration, We are dazzled by your wit!
But we hopefully anticipate a future When the airship shall replace the motor-’bus, And _your_ children, when they meet you, Shall inevitably treat you Just as you are treating us!
[1] “As us” is not grammar.
--Publishers’ Reader.
“As we” is not verse.
--H.
G.
_An Epithalamium_
