Classic Poem

Let the earth mourn. A lover and a child
Of the great mother sleeps his last long sleep,
Let her winds wall in voices wierd and wild:
Let sobs disturb the bosom of the deep.

Nature's interpreter—who now shall find
And bring to light the meaning of her speech?
Who now shall stand with mien serene and kind,
And hold her lore within our easy reach?

He sought through sunless cares on mountains hoar,
The foot prints of the ages, blurred and dim;
And ocean chambers, deep beneath the roar
Of wind and wave, unrolled their scroll to him.

He saw and read the records, then he turned
And spoke to us with cheek and lips aglow.
We heard with awe, our hearts within us burned—
Such wonders had God written long ago!

The earth is His, He made it; and its leaves
Who so by patient scanning clearly reads,
Gathers to Wisdom's store-house golden sheaves,
Shall we not own him prophet of our needs?

Philosopher, such prophet, then, wast thou!
Yet is thy mantle fallen; who shall dare
Take up the radiant garment? Who shall now
Alike thy honors and thy burdens bear?