THE MUSE OF HISTORY.
By Elizabeth Porter Gould.
Clio with her flickering light
And book of valued lore,
Comes down the ages dark and bright,
Our interest to implore.
She walks with glad, majestic mien,
Proud of her knowledge gained,
E'en while she mourns from having seen
Man's life so dulled and pained.
Her face with lines of care is wrought,
From searching mystery's cause,
And dealing with the hidden thought
Of nature's subtle laws.
Yet still she blushes with new life
In sight of actions fine,
And pales with anguish at the strife
Of evil's dread design.
She stops to sing her grandest lays
When, in creation's heat,
She sees evolved a higher phase
Of life's fruitions sweet.
'Twas thus in days of Genesis
When man came forth supreme;
'Twas thus in days of Nemesis
When Love did dare redeem.
And thus 'twill be in future days
When out from spirit-laws,
Shall be brought forth for lasting praise
The ever-great First cause.
Then gladly know this wondrous muse
Who walks the aisles of Time;
And dare not thoughtlessly refuse
Her book of lore sublime.
For in it is the precious force
Of spirit-life divine,
Which even through a winding course
Leads on to Wisdom's shrine.