Classic Poem

If, ages after this, when I
Have long been lying 'neath the clover,
These lines should chance to meet the eye
Of one who'll deign to read them over, —

Mortal, I fain would speak with you
Awhile in this imperfect sonnet,
Of life in eighteen-sixty-two —
How the " world wagged" when I was on it.

In History's statements put no trust —
Historians never are impartial;
If you read novels, know you must
That these at best are merely farcial:

But mine will be a faithful tale
Of simple truth, I do assure you —
No scenes to make your cheeks turn pale,
No far-fetched fancies to allure you.

I scarce know how in words to mould
The struggling thoughts that o'er me gather;
Yet list, and I'll " a tale unfold"
As long as that of Hamlet's father.

Of course, in eighteen-sixty-two
We had not all your privileges,
For Art's deep Ocean, broad and blue,
Was only spanned by floating-bridges;

And we were " cabined, cribbed, confined,"
A rude convention kept us under;
We chained the lightning, bound the wind,
But never knew the use of thunder!

Eight days our steamboats took to plough
The Atlantic 'gainst the storm-king's powers —
Why speak of this? No doubt you now
Can cross it in as many hours!

In naval warfare we excelled —
It was no use our ships to fire on;
Armstrong and Whitworth guns they held;
Their hulls were coated o'er with iron.

We learned the secrets of the stars,
Explored the wonders of the ocean,
Burst Education's prison bars,
And set her glorious car in motion.

But not content with what we knew
Of all the varied spheres of science —
In theory and practice too —
With other worlds we sought alliance!

We summoned ghosts in number more
Than those that came to blood-stained Gloster;
To hear from friends lost years before,
We'd but to go to Mr. Foster!

The way they came to tongue could tell,
On chairs and stools they used to hammer —
Most had forgot the way to spell,
And very few could speak good grammar!

The ghost of Walter Scott told lies!
But then in life he loved romancing:
Heber was given to cards and dice,
And Dr. Watts was fond of dancing!

And all this time great Science strode
With giant strides, we slowly following,
Though oft with open mouths we stood
Some grand delusive fiction swallowing.

Of locomotion I'll not make
My tale to tell, or you'll not scan it,
Since I've no doubt you now can take
A journey to some distant planet!

Of mighty Love we owned the sway;
We felt the stormy glow of passion;
We slept all night; we woke all day;
We dressed — in the prevailing fashion.

We harboured hate and joy and fear;
We courted — ah! you know what that is:
A tale told in a trellised ear,
Beside a trellised window lattice.

We went to church on Sabbath days,
When solemn Sabbath bells were ringing; —
Some went to gaze — some went to praise —
Some went " because they liked the singing."

In riches and in luxury
Thousands of wealthy men were lying;
While, steeped in abject misery,
As many more of want were dying.

Yet still, amidst Want's piercing moan,
And busy Labour's ceaseless humming,
We thought that Joy was hastening on,
And that a better time was coming.

Dreaming we ever could behold,
Beyond the midnight's misty covering,
A happy daybreak, fringed with gold,
Upon the verge of darkness hovering!

Fools! thus we let the years glide by,
Nor dreamed that they had most of beauty,
Who, spite of Hope's delusive cry,
Strongly and nobly did their duty.

We seldom thought the solemn Past
Spread its far-stretching shadow o'er us;
Or that the Future, wide and vast,
Lay an untrodden waste before us!

We lived as if the world at best
Were but a place of mere transition,
Nor ever deemed that each possessed
In his own sphere a special mission.

Farewell, my friend! the silent night
Is slowly falling, dim and dimmer,
And through the weird and lonely light
I see your unborn features glimmer!

I seem to grasp your ghostly hand!
All outer human things are banished!
The Dawn comes creeping o'er the land,
And, lo! thy shadowy form has vanished!