16
The Conservative
Edited by H.P. Lovecraft
A Dream of the Golden Age.
By Ira A. Cole.
"Ver erat aeternum, placidique tepentibus auris
Mulcebant zephyri natos sine semine flores".
- Ovid
One day, whilst wand'ring idly by a stream,
My truant thoughts forsook me for a dream.
And as I loiter'd 'neath the pleasing shade
Of those green aisles, by wondrous Nature made,
A spirit presence took me by the hand,
And in enchantment led me through a land
Whose stately beauty told of bygone days,
When Nature's children, at their simple plays,
In careless freedom wander'd o'er the lea,
Nor knew convention's curse like you and me.
And while we wander'd down that pleasant shore,
My spirit guide told wondrous tales of yore,
And strove by magic, and in mystic ways,
To show the splendour of those other days:
The days when all the world was bright and fair,
And gods and satyres breath'd the bracing air,
When nymphs and naiades of snowy blue;
Nor sought a dull decorum to display,
But drest in Nature's garments, went their way.
When heroes, god-like and of mighty mien,
Sped in unfetter'd freedom 'cross the sheen
Of noble rivers, whose gay waters flow'd
Untrammel'd where first Nature mark'd the road.
Nor sought they other worlds than theirs to know;
Content as kings where now but paupers grow.
Well pleas'd were they with Earth and all her store,
Nor thought, nor car'd, nor wanted they for more.
With simple, grave, unfearing, childlike trust.
They bow'd at Beauty's shrine, nor knew the lust
Of cank'ring Gold, nor car'd they to defile
Their lives with those false creeds and doctrines vile,
On which Pollution's litter glut their souls:
They drank Life's wine from pantheistic bow's.
And not in dingy temples built by man,
But 'neath the dome that Heav'n's high arches span,
They saw their God, nor fear'd to meet Him so,
In leaf, or tree, or where the grasses grow.
