From whom among the worldly scrum
will Earth’s brighter future come?
Who’ll point a twitching finger to
a skyline of a sickly hue
and before our future’s gone,
transform it from its dull and wan
pallor to a richer hue?
What newer race will then renew
as their fathers failed to do?
Who forms these saviors of the world?
In what infant brain lies curled
the savior of the human race?
Or will we vanish without a trace?