Or, echo, mocking us
Repeat the busy voice, we pray,
Of moiling thousands, now dull clay,
And waken up the gloom profound.
Pale, shimmering ghosts
that flit around,
While spade and mattock death-fields glean,
Open with words from the unseen
The mysteries now in cerements bound.
No answer yet!
We gaze in vain.
With lamp and lore let science come.
Now, clear eyed maiden!!—You, too, dumb!
Your light gone out!!—’tis night again.
And is this all? an
A broken spear! a copper pin!
Earth’s grandest prizes counted in,
A burial mound!—the common lot!
Yes! this were all;
but o’er the mound,
The stars, that fill the midnight sky,
Are eyes from Heaven that watch on high
Till domesday’s thrilling life-note sound.
* * * * *
Page 9 (b): The following changes
have been made from the original
come changed to came (it came from a distant locality);
to implements (crushed in by one of these
Some paragraphs appear to end mid-sentence;
however no text is missing
from the source document. The author chose to turn the end of those
sentences into paragraph headings.