Our Bias

The hour-glass whispers to the lion's roar,

The clock-towers tell the gardens day and night

How many errors Time has patience for,

How wrong they are in being always right.

Yet Time, however loud its chimes or deep.

However fast its falling torrent flows,

Has never put one lion off his leap

Nor shaken the assurance of a rose.

For they, it seems, care only for success:

While we choose words according to their sound

And judge a problem by its awkwardness;

And Time with us was always popular.

When have we not preferred some going round

To going straight to where we are?