Mrs. Sigourney.
Methought I heard a reverend old man speak;
Grey were his locks, his eyes were calmly bright,
The rosiness of youth was on his cheek,
And, as he spoke, a heaven of truth and light
Open’d itself upon my inner sight;
While, banish’d by his accents soft and meek,
Dissolve itself in holy harmony.
Then to the old man, doubtfully, I said,
“Yet in the world these evils are not dead!”