POESY.
Before the human hand a stylus held,
Ere papyrus’ or parchment’s mute appeal,
Sweet songs were sung whose echoes charm us still;
From dying lips undying music welled.
Wedded to strains from chosen souls that swelled,
Were rescued from oblivion’s clammy seal,
Fantastic legend, laws of commonweal,
Heroic deeds in days of hoary eld.