Variant (Let us love this modern world, let us not protest)
Let us love this modern world, let us not protest
When the jazz-band screams above the music of the out-moded lute.
Let us listen and enjoy with the mob
Till we no longer are tempted to commit suicide.
Let us say: "That crooner is a star"
And dream how fine a prize his autograph would be.
Let us walk on the slippery dance-floor of the world,
Let us be charmed by the Sunday newspapers,
Let us learn to talk about greyhounds and race-horses
Lest our lives narrow and we can breathe no more,
Let us not be old-fashioned clinging to the abstract ideal
Of beauty and truth
Or we may be left stranded on the ice-floe of immortality
While the masses