Will They- poem

When the philosophers’ well is empty What will the children drink? When the red cheeks are cold What will the sparrows sing? When man has finally won What will superman think? Only the poets will know. When willows sway more than faces play When the dark black hair become gray When all that remains of old is old and bone When all that comes in dreams is slayed, Will a new ray mark a new day Or will the dead’s dreams decay? Only the sun will know. Will the swallow’s poem be heard Or will it echo from grave to grave? Will all that remain of us lay with us And then from dust to dust we will Feel sweet and sad but not alone? Or will we be alone? Only we will know. Who will remember to read When those who read feel regret? Who will write novels When poetry is dead? Will the flag flutter When flags clutter the veins wet? Only the flag will know. But will they know? Will the word vessels sink in Or will they sink Will the firemen have big hands Or will their hard hats Make them stop to-think? I do not know.