Martin Robertson

Now and Then

Other World

A golden age, an Eden

before the growth of wrong

has haunted human fancy

indissolubly long

and cast its mirror-image

against the clouds ahead:

a heaven to be happy

again when wrong is dead.

Today we feel behind us

the struggle of the ape.

The future’s cloud is gathered

into a monstrous shape.

Yet here and now about me

between two thoughts I see

a sleeping beauty’s kingdom

that was and is to be.