A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in.
Fairy Land iii
by William Shakespeare
COME unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands:
Court'sied when you have, and kiss'd,--
The wild waves whist,--
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burthen bear.
The watch-dogs bark:
Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer