I.

Day broke:—The Morning of a mighty year
Came forth, and smiled;
And, in its sunny arms, (like waters clear),
It bore—a child.

II.

Time flew:—Quick life along his arteries sang;
Love's pulses beat:
And from his burning temples Thought outsprang,
And Truth, complete.

III.

Time flew:—The brightness of a Poet's sight
Enlarged his eye;
And Strength and Courage knit his limbs for fight,
To live,—or die.

IV.

Time flew:—Sad Wisdom from his heart arose,
And touched his brain;
And he stood up, 'midst all a Prophet's woes,
And spoke,—in vain!

V.

He spoke:—Men hearkened to his piercing cry,
With smiles, with scorn;
But the dim F UTURE felt his threatenings high,
And shook,—unborn!

VI.

He died: and race to race did still succeed;
And suns did shine;
And Centuries passed; and still no eye could read
His awful line.

VII.

You mourn?—Mourn not; nor deem his history vain;
Nor vain his strife:
To breathe, to feel, to hope, are worth the pain
Of Death, and Life:

VIII.

And now,—(as generations rise, and far
Like vapours roll,)
Some few begin to gaze, as on a star.
And scan his scroll:

IX.

And, in its inspiration, vaguely shown,
We seem to trace
The march of revolutions, come and flown;
And of man's race.

X.

The history. Amidst blots, of blood and tears,
The verses run,
Until we lose their light in distant years,
And—all is done!

R ETURNING from a ramble yester-eve,
A bevy of black, cawing crows I saw
Promiscuously perched upon and dotting
High telegraph-wires: two or three of them,
With flighty and uncrowish humour, hung
Head downward, clutching with twisted talons
The tight-strung wires.
—Passing on, I laughed to think that crows,
Choristers whose raucous and raspy voices
Offer endless irritation to nice ears,
Should suddenly remind me of Beethoven,
Mozart, music.