"And alas for thy daring, O mortal !
Since the dead must go down to the dead,
If thy prescience shall darken the portal
Where the lustres eternal are shed;
For thy path may ascend to the planets,
And away to the fountains of light
In disdain of the earth and the granites
Where thy fortunes are builded aright;
But thy science all wingless and broken
Shall return, and with never a token
Of its long and delirious flight!"
Since the dead must go down to the dead,
If thy prescience shall darken the portal
Where the lustres eternal are shed;
For thy path may ascend to the planets,
And away to the fountains of light
In disdain of the earth and the granites
Where thy fortunes are builded aright;
But thy science all wingless and broken
Shall return, and with never a token
Of its long and delirious flight!"
AT LINNTON'S SHAMBLES
[At Linnton, a village on the Willamette, is located an abattoir, where herds of Oregon cayuses are introduced through the canning route to the quartermasters of the armies of the world.]
With its blue seas afoam and its islands aglow
And the continents loud with the clamor of life,
O, whither, O, whither, as dim cycles flow,
Careereth the earth with its passion and strife?
As if lost in the night, to each other we call,
With lips moist with kisses or pallid with fear;
But out of the dark comes no answer at all,
No solace from oracle, prophet or seer.
And the continents loud with the clamor of life,
O, whither, O, whither, as dim cycles flow,
Careereth the earth with its passion and strife?
As if lost in the night, to each other we call,
With lips moist with kisses or pallid with fear;
But out of the dark comes no answer at all,
No solace from oracle, prophet or seer.
We are far from the highway; our landmarks are lost,
And the stars reel above us in glimmering dance,
And the stars reel above us in glimmering dance,
