Purchase of this book includes free trial access to www.million-books.com where you can read more than a million books for free. This is an OCR edition with typos. Excerpt from book: THE ICONOCLAST. 49 Ah! where are they who rose in might, Who fired the temple and the shrine, And hurled, through earth's chaotic night, The helpless gods it deemed divine ? Cease, longing soul, thy vain desire! What idol, in its stainless prime, But falls, untouched of axe or fire, Before the steady eyes of Time. He looks, and lo ! our altars fall, The shrine reveals its gilded clay, With decent hands we spread the pall, And, cold with wisdom, glide away. Oh! where were courage, faith, and truth, If man went wandering all his day In golden clouds of love and youth, Nor knew that both his steps betray ? Come, Time, while here we sit and wait, Be faithful, spoiler, to thy trust! No death can further desolate The soul that knows its god was dust. "ALL THY WORKS PRAISE THEE.' I Hear the distant city-bells Clang their loud summons to Thy throne, Along the wind their music swells, And I am here — alone. The glory of Thy faithful Spring Makes for my heart an ardent prayer, And for my psalm of fervor sing The choristers of air. If any sermonist they need Who read Thy word with faithful eyes, Expositors my spirit feed, Inspired from earth and skies. The life that pours through nature's veins Its visible and genial tide, Thy tender robing of the plains, The forest's stately pride; The blossom only known to Thee, A silent smile that gleams and dies. The labor-anthem of the bee, Whose rest in duty lies; A COMPLAINT. 51 The solemn chorus of the wind That breathes thy power's triumphant tone, — All frame Thy temple in my mind; I am not here alone! A COMPLAINT. A Hot noon filled the Autumn sky So still, the pines forgot to sigh, But breathed out odors graciously Along the slumbering ...