CONTINUED

How smiles he at a generation ranked

In gloomy noddings over life! They pass.

Not he to feed upon a breast unthanked,

Or eye a beauteous face in a cracked glass.

But he can spy that little twist of brain

Which moved some weighty leader of the blind,

Unwitting‘ twas the goad of personal pain,

To view in curst eclipse our Mother's mind,

And show us of some rigid harridan

The wretched bondmen till the end of time.

O lived the Master now to paint us Man,

That little twist of brain would ring a chime

Of whence it came and what it caused, to start

Thunders of laughter, clearing air and heart.