From The Detroit Times, February 2, 1914. By Berton Braley.

I wish that I could be
    An old standpatter
To look around and see
    Nothing the matter.
All new thoughts to repel
    With brain that’s flaccid,
And think that all is well,
    Serene and placid.

What calm, what peace is his;
    He’s well contented;
To him all progress is
    A thing demented;
The world has gone ahead,
    And all things show it;
Forward the age has sped—
    He doesn’t know it.

And so he drifts along
    Through all the flurry;
To him there’s nothing wrong,
    So he should worry;
To me life’s sometimes grim
    And all things matter,
And yet I envy him,
    The old standpatter.