Andromeda, and Other Poems/On the Death of a Certain Journal
ON THE DEATH OF A CERTAIN JOURNAL
SO die, thou child of stormy dawn,Thou winter flower, forlorn of nurse;Chilled early by the bigot's curse,The pedant's frown, the worldling's yawn.
Fair death, to fall in teeming June,When every seed which drops to earthTakes root, and wins a second birthFrom steaming shower and gleaming moon.
Fall warm, fall fast, thou mellow rain;Thou rain of God, make fat the land;That roots which parch in burning sandMay bud to flower and fruit again.
To grace, perchance, a fairer mornIn mightier lands beyond the sea,While honour falls to such as weFrom hearts of heroes yet unborn.
Who in the light of fuller day,Of purer science, holier laws,Bless us, faint heralds of their cause,Dim beacons of their glorious way.
Failure? While tide-floods rise and boilRound cape and isle, in port and cove,Resistless, star-led from above:What though our tiny wave recoil?