"Then these four chaps will be the squaws?—that's just;
With lots of picaninnies, I do trust!"
"If changes go by fifty thousand, yes;
But if by ten, they last were squaws, I guess!"
"Come on; we'll go and do the very beers
We did this night was fifty thousand years."
Thou prophet, thou deep sage! we'll go, we'll go:
The ring is round, Life naught, the World an O;
This night is fifty thousand years ago!
X.
The trees and the houses go wheeling back,
But the starry heavens above the plain
Come flying on our track.
All the beautiful stars of the sky,
The silver doves of the forest of Night,
Over the dull earth swarm and fly,
Companions of our flight.
We will rush ever on without fear;
Let the goal be far, the flight be fleet!
For we carry the Heavens with us, Dear,
While the Earth slips from our feet!
