Outrode the spring-time tide ere it could ebb.
Nay, tell me, then, whence came each passing scene,
And why such widespread power vouchsafed to me,
That time nor space held aught of bar between
The shifting lights of land and distant sea?
How could I realize the utmost span
Of life and love, nay more, of silent death
As meted out within the time of man,
And passing o'er the wide world's pulsing breath?
O puissant Press! what need have I to tell