Chapter III: Front Matter (3)

He tells me how the stars had birth,
And how their wondrous cycles run,
Or places me beyond the earth,
Unharmed, upon the giant sun.

Through him I learn what Science knows,
How this vast universe began;
How life, from mean beginnings, rose
High as God’s noblest creature, man.

On me dawns many a truth profound
About the swinging earth I tread,
That it is one vast burying ground,
The living living through the dead,

That where once flowed the ocean’s tide,
Now stand the homes of countless souls;
That where once mountains rose in pride,
Billow on foaming billow rolls.

The geni stems the flood of time,
And bears me almost to its source;
Then as we float, bids scenes sublime
And sad and happy shore our course.

I see the tower of Babel rise,
With busy builders everywhere,
Up, ever up, towards the skies,
Spearing the azure depths of air.

I hear a voice from out a cloud,
And see the workmen making signs,--
How humble God can make the proud!
How easily mar man’s best designs!

I see the wild Light Tresses fall
In cruel waves on fated Rome,
And in an emperor’s audience hall
I see the jackals make their home.

Sleek monks I see within their cells,
And knights in burnished armor housed.
I hear the chime of marriage bells
For maids whom death hath long espoused.

I hear the poet’s stirring strain,
That wins him immortality,
And weep with such as found with pain
Their idol but ignoble clay.

Writ by the fearless Luther pen,
The words that stirred the world I see;
I hear the tramp of arméd men,
And know that thought, at last, is free.

The joys and hopes, the griefs and fears,
Defeats and conquests of the race,
Through all the swift, eventful years,
The geni at my wish will trace.

And though he builds no palace vast
For me, nor gives me queen for bride,
While I am free to all the past,
I ask from him no boon beside.

SONG.

When a maiden’s heart is tender,
And her soul as pure as snow;
When her eyes, with sunny splendor,
Set her countenance aglow;
When her every move discovers
Newer graces without end,
She can win a hundred lovers,--
Yet may hunger for a friend.

Pearly teeth and curly tresses,
Ruby lips, in smiles that part,
These will lure a man’s caresses,
Easily enslave his heart;
Yet, when all is said and over,
Even though souls in passion blend,
She has only one more lover,
And may hunger for a friend.

Blind I am not, no, nor callous;
Beauty hath its charm for me.
Yet would I, beyond life’s shallows,
Push towards the depthless sea.
Friendship’s true, and Love’s a rover,
Love is selfish in the end.
Choose thee, Sweet, whatever lover,
Let me still remain thy friend.

QUATRAINS.