Of busy hordes that wrought to spread the new-born light.

[41]

[41]

III.

They were strange wanderers on life's sad deep,

And paused a moment in God's mystic plan

A little vigil on time's shores to keep,

Then passed forever from the tribes of man.

They heard a voice and a strange face did scan,

And what of conquest or of kingly sway

Had filled their dreams, they gave the white man's clan,

And with the dawning of a wondrous day,

They spread their sails again and, voiceless, passed away.

IV.

Silent as ever, stoic as of old,

Their children sit with empty hands to wait

The sequel that the future shall unfold,—

The unwritten "Finis" of remorseless fate.

Vanquished they stand before oblivion's gate,

Knowing that soon the everlasting seal

 Prev. P 41/90 next