If the sad old world should jump a cog
    Some time, in its dizzy spinning,
And go off the track with a sudden jog,
    What an end would come to the sinning.
What a rest from strife and the burdens of life
    For the millions of people in it,
What a way out of care, and worry and wear,
    All in a beautiful minute.

As 'round the sun with a curving sweep
    It hurries and runs and races,
Should it lose its balance, and go with a leap
    Into the vast sea-spaces,
What a blest relief it would bring to the grief,
    And the trouble and toil about us,
To be suddenly hurled from the solar world
    And let it go on without us.

With not a sigh or a sad good-bye
    For loved ones left behind us,
We would go with a lunge and a mighty plunge
    Where never a grave should find us.
What a wild mad thrill our veins would fill
    As the great earth, like a feather,
Should float through the air to God knows where,
    And carry us all together.

No dark, damp tomb and no mourner's gloom
    No tolling bell in the steeple,
But in one swift breath a painless death
    For a million billion people.
What greater bliss could we ask than this,
    To sweep with a bird's free motion
Through leagues of space to a resting-place
    In a vast and vapoury ocean---
To pass away from this life for aye
    With never a dear tie sundered,
And a world on fire for a funeral pyre,
    While the stars looked on and wondered?

Poetical works of Ella Wheeler Wilcox. by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Edinburgh : W. P. Nimmo, Hay, & Mitchell, 1917.

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