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Title: Move!
Author: Edmund Vance Cooke [
More Titles by Cooke]
We are on the main line of a crowded track;
We've got to go forward; we can't go back
And run the risk of colliding:
We must make schedule, not now and again,
But always, forever and ever, amen!
Or else switch off on a siding.
If ever we loaf, like a car in the yard,
Doesn't somebody bump us, and bump us hard,
I wonder?
You've succeeded in building a pretty fair trade,
But can you sit down in the grateful shade
And kill time cutting up capers?
Or must you hustle and scheme and sweat,
Though the shine be fine or the weather be wet,
And keep your page in the papers?
If ever you fail to be pulling the strings,
Aren't some of your rivals around doing things,
I wonder?
You're a first-class salesman. You know your line;
Your house is good and your goods are fine,
So you fill your book with orders,
But can you get quit of the ball and chain,
Or are you in jail on a railroad train,
With blue-coated men for warders?
If you sent your samples and cut out the trip,
Wouldn't somebody else soon be lugging your grip,
I wonder?
You are starred on the bills and are chummy with fame;
The man on the corner could tell you your name
At three o'clock in the morning,
But can you depend on the mind of the mob?
Can you tell your press-agent to look for a job,
Or give your manager warning?
Should you lie down to sleep, with your laurels beneath,
Wouldn't somebody else soon be wearing your wreath,
I wonder?
Oh, I'm willing to work, but I wish I could lag,
Not feeling as if I were "it" for tag,
Or last in follow-my-leader;
There is only one spot where, I haven't a doubt,
Nobody will try to be crowding me out,
And that is under the cedar.
And even in that place, will Gabriel's trump
Come nagging along and be making me jump?
I wonder.
[The end]
Edmund Vance Cooke's poem: Move!
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