Classic Poem

Good folks, the days o' miracles ain't past an' gone away:
The weather man predicted snow, an' here's the snow to-day!
They know the path the sun an' moon air travellin' — so they do —
They've tracked the stars of heaven an' caught the comets, too!

They know jest how the ol' world rolls — they've got it down by heart;
They know the cyclone's comin' 'fore it ever makes a start!
They know the awful distance from here up to the sun;
They've counted all the worlds above, an' named 'em — every one!

Ain't nuthin hidden from 'em — they know the all-in-all!
When obstacles air risin' they batter down the wall
An' stand in all the glory an' beauty o' the light,
A-givin' out this verdict — that there shall be no night!

An' I r'a'ly wouldn't wonder, at the pace we're bein' led,
Ef they shook the world like thunder by the raisin' o' the dead!
Fer, step by step they're goin' upon the upward way,
Till a feller's glad he's livin' in a world like this to-day!