See that satan pollarding a tree, <br />That geometric man straightening a road: <br />Surely such passions are perverse and odd <br />That violate windows and set the north wind free. <br /> <br />No doubt tomorrow the world will be too straight. <br />Five hundred miles an hour will churn our dreams <br />Like surprised whales, when we lie a dead weight <br />In an ignorant sleep, and things will be what they seem. <br /> <br />Tomorrow we will hear on the gramophone <br />The music of the Spheres, registered H.M.V. <br />By a divorced contralto: we shall perhaps <br />Meet Adam under glass in a museum <br />Fleshless and most unlovely, complete with pedigree. <br /> <br />Or else, tomorrow, workers, kings and crooks <br />Will all have aeroplanes and be fast friends, <br />In a world no longer divided by dividends, <br />Where love will be almost as simple as it looks.<br /><br />Francis Scarfe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/progression-10/