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Sees in its treadmill's fruitless jog a Who, though but just of forty turned, heavenward Jacob's-ladder,

have heard the rumorous fame Shouts, Lo, the Shining Heights are Of nine and ninety Coming Men, all —

reuched! One moment more aspire! coming till they came. Trots into cramps its poor, dear legs, Pure Mephistopheles all this? the vulgar gets never an inch the higher,

nature jeers ? And, like the others, ends with pipe and Good friend, while I was writing it, my mug beside the fire.

eyes were dim with tears ; There, 'tween each doze, it whiffs and Thrice happy he who cannot see, or who sips and watches with a sheer

his eyes can shut, The green recruits that trudge and sweat Life's deepest sorrow is contained in that where it had swinked whilere,

small word there — But! And sighs to think this soon spent zeal

should be in simple truth The only interval between old Fogy hood We're pretty nearly crazy here with and Youth:

change and go ahead, “Well,” thus it muses, “well, what With flinging our caught bird away for odds ? T is not for us to warn ;

two i' th'bush instead, 'T will be the same when we are dead, With butting 'gainst the wall which we and was ere we were born;

declare shall be a porial, Without the Treadmill, too, how grind And questioning Deeps that never yet our store of winter's corn ?

have oped their lips to mortal; Had we no stock, nor twelve per cent. We're growing pale and hollow-eyed, received from Treadmill shares,

and out of all condition, We might ... but these poor devils at With mediums and prophetic chairs, and last will get our easy-chairs.

crickets with a mission, High aims and hopes have great rewards, (The most astounding oracles since Bathey, too, serene and snug,

laam's donkey spoke, Shall one day have their soothing pipe | 'T would seem our furniture was all of and their enlivening mug;

Dodonean oak.) From Adam, empty-handed Youth hath Make but the public laugh, be sure always heard the hum

't will take you to be somebody; Of Good Times Coming, and will hear 'T will wrench its button from your until the last day come;

clutch, my densely earnest glum Young ears hear forward, old ones back, body;

and, while the earth rolls on, | 'T is good, this poble earnestness, good Full-handed Eld shall hear recede the in its place, but why

steps of Good Times Gone; Make great Achilles' shield the pan to Ah what a cackle we set up whene'er an bake a penny pie? egy was laid !

Why, when we have a kitchen-range, inCack-cock-cack-cackle! rang around, the sist that we shall stop,

scratch for worms was staved, And bore clear down to central fires to Cut-cut-ca-dah-cut! from this egg the broil our daily chop ? coming cock shall stalk!

Excalibur and Durandart are swords of The great New Era dawns, the age of price, but then Deeds and not of Talk!

Why draw them sternly when you wish And every stupid hen of us hugged close to trim your nails or pen ? his egg of chalk.

Small gulf between the ape and man; Thought, — sure, I feel life stir within, you bridge it with your staff ;

each day with greater strength, But it will be impassable until the ape When, lo, the chick! from former chicks can laugh; he differed not a jot,

No, no, be common now and then, be senBut grew and crew and scratched and sible, be funny,

went, like those before, to pot !” And, as Siberians bait their traps for So muse the dim Emerili, and, mournful bears with pots of honey, though it be,

From which, ere they 'll withdraw their I must confess a kindred thought hath snouts, they 'll suffer many a clubsometimes come to me,

lick,

So bait your moral figure-of-fours to With any thing that any race has fashcatch the Orson public.

ioned any where; Look how the dead leaves melt their 'Tis not a statue, grumbles John; nay, if way down through deep- drifted

you come to that, snow;

We think of Hyde Park Corner, and They take the sun-warmth down wih

concede sou beat us flat them - pearls could not conquer | With your equestrian statue to a Nose so i

and a Cocked-hat; There is a moral here, you see ; if you But 't is not a cathedral; well, e'en that would preach, you must

we will ullow, Steep all your truth, in sunshine would | Both statues and cathedrals are anachro

you have them pierce the crust; I nistic now; Brave Jeremiah, you are grand and ter- Your minsters, coz, the monuments of rible, a sign

men who conquered you, And wonder, but were never quite a pop. You 'd sell a bargain, if we'd take the ular divine;

deans and chapters too; Fancy the figure you would cut among No; mortal men build nowadays, as althe nuts and wine!

ways heretofore, I, on occasion, too, could preach, but Good temples to the gods which they in hold it wi-er far

very truth adore ; To give the public sermons it will take The shepherds of this Broker Age, with with its cigar,

all their willing flocks, And morals fugitive, and vague as are Although they bow to stones no more, these smoke-wreaths light

do bend the knee to stocks, In which ... I trace , ..a... let me And churches can't be beautiful though see — bless me! 't is out of sight.

crowded, floor and gallery, . . 11f people worship preacher, and if

preacher worship salary ; There are some goodish things at sea; / 'Tis will to look things in the face, the for instance, one can feel

god o' the modern universe, A grandeur in the silent man forever at Hermes, cares naught for halls of art the wheel,

and libraries of puny verse, That bit of two-legged intellect, that If they don't sell, he notes them thus particle of drill,

upon his ledger - say, per Who the huge floundering hulk inspires Contra to a loss of so much stone, best with reason, brain, and will,

Russia duck and paper; And makes the ship, though skies are And, after all, about this Art men talk a

black and headwinds whistle loud, deal of fudge, Obey her conscience there which feels Each nation has its path marked out, the loadstar through the cloud ;

from which it must not budge; And when by Justy western gales the The Romans had as little art as Noah in full-sailed barque is hurled

his ark, Towards the great moon which, setting Yet somehow on this globe contrived 10 on the silent underworld,

make an epic mark; Rounds luridly up to look on ours, and Religion, painting, sculpture, song, - for shoots a broadening line,

these they ran up jolly ticks Of palpitant light from crest to crest With Greece and Egypt, but they were across the ridgy brine,

great artists in their politics, Then from the bows look back and feel And if we make no minsters, John, nor a thrill that never stales,

epics, yet the Fates In that full-bosomed, swan-white pomp Are not entirely deaf to men who can of onward-yearning sails ;

build ships and states; Ah, when dear cousin Bull laments that The arts are never pioneers, but men you can't make a poem,

have strength and health Take him aboard a clipper-ship, young Who, called on suddenly, can improvise Jonathan, and show him

A commonwealth, A work of art that in its grace and gran. Nay, can more easily go on and frame deur may compare

them by the dozen,

Than you can make a dinner-speech, Their public's gone, the artist Greek, the dear sympathizing cousin :

'lettered Shah, the hairy Graf – And, though our restless Jonathan have Folio and plesiosaur sleep well; we weary not your graver bent, sure he

o'er a paragraph; Does represent this hand-to-mouth, pert, The mind moves planer-like no more, it rapid, nineteenth century ;

fizzes, cracks, and bustles; This is the Age of Scramble; men move From end to end with journals' dry the faster than they did

land o'ershadowed rustles, When they pried up the imperial Past's As with dead leaves a winter-beech, and, deep-dusted coffin-lid,

with their breath-roused jars Searching for scrolls of precedent; the Amused, we care not if they hide the wire-leashed lightning now

eternal skies and stars; Replaces Delphos — men don't leave the Down to the general level of the Board steamer for the scow;

of Brokers sinking, What public, were they new to-day, The Age takes in the newspapers, or, to would ever stop to read

say sooth upshrinking, The Iliad, the Shanámeh, or the Nibe- The newspapers take in the Age, and lungenlied ?

stocks do all the thinking.

UNDER THE WILLOWS,

AND

OTHER POEMS.

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