there are no magic secrets in the mud
beneath our feet but worlds have passed away
while it was formed and our own great display
marks just a stage in passing drought and flood
each one of us from hero down to dud
knows that we have so little time to stay
and yet seem hasty to fritter our day
in silly matters that just waste our blood
time was we might have made some sort of stand
against the forces that push down so hard
to turn our efforts into so much smoke
but we are left with only a weak hand
remaining on what seems the final yard
and sense enough to understand the joke