Classic Poem

Fatal Lamp! whose brilliant ray
Shines in homes of rich, and poor;
Yet more false than leads astray
Traveler o'er the midnight moor.

Thou dost in man's dwelling come,
Promising to aid, and bless;
But has filled his peaceful home
With keen anguish, and distress.

Gathered round the social board,
At the happy evening hour,
Each to each in love restored,
What for evil can have power?

Naught but Thee, thou baleful light!
Author of so many woes;
Better far primeval night,
Than the day thy beam bestows.

Like the box, that artful Jove
Sent the first of human kind;
Thou a curse to man dost prove,
Every plague in one combined.

Wise Prometheus did reject
E'en the gift of heaven's high king;—
We should treat, with like neglect,
Gifts, that death and suffering bring.

Let the Press its warning sound,
Till no more sad tales we hear;
And thy light no more be found
In the home to us so dear.