Its morrow no man’s child; its day
A vulture’s morsel beaked to bones.” ...
He tried to persuade the city that earth was not “a mother whom no cry can melt.” But his song was not clear enough, and when it was understood it said chiefly that man should love battle and seek it, and so make himself, even if a clerk or a philosopher, an animal worthy of the great globe, careless of death:—
“For love we Earth, then serve we all:
Her mystic secret then is ours:
We fall, or view our treasures fall,
Unclouded, as beholds her flowers
“Earth, from a night of frosty wreck,
Enrobed in morning’s mounted fire,
When lowly, with a broken neck,