Between us and the crowning race. . . .
No longer half akin to brute,
For all we thought and loved and did,
And hoped, and suffered, is but seed
Of what in them is flower and fruit.”
Tennyson pressed home this idea of the further evolution of our race in his very last volume, in a poem called “The Making of Man.”
“Man as yet is being made, and ere the crowning Age of ages,
Shall not æon after æon pass and touch him into shape?”
And again in “The Dawn.”
“Ah, what will our children be,