And Nature frowned aghast,

By patient-toil have fruitage borne

And blossomed fragrance cast.

The wreck of spheres by traction's laws

Hurled wildly into space,

May gather atoms round itself

And find some resting place

[Pg 21]

Where it may serve creation's end,

And 'mong the planets roll,

True to the laws of gravity

That marks its outer pole.

The mind and soul can never

Within themselves find rest,

When all the sin's pollutions

Are harbored in the breast.

Then sow good seed, brave teacher,

And deeply plant with care,

That both here and hereafter

Rich harvest it may bear.

 Prev. P 18/268 next