Classic Poem

1

The Prophet at Creation's door
Hath long been humbly dunning:
He swears to us now, that Earth is hoar,
And Time must cease his running.
He shows us the way: he fights for the day:
He sounds the loud blast of a devil to pay: —
Still the grass grows,
Still blooms the rose,
And the cock crows in the morning.

2

Both Sun & Moon look mild on Earth
To snare us with reliance;
But they shudder at the monstrous birth
Of this we christen Science.
The Prophet can raise coming moments at gaze,
When Nature & Heaven change nods in a craze: —
Still the grass grows,
Still blooms the rose,
And the cock crows in the morning.

3

O vain and stricken hearts who claim
That ghostly thing, " to-morrow " !
Who nurse young Hope like a child of shame,
In bosoms charged with sorrow:
Shiver and cark: take refuge dark:
Already the Prophet hath spied the first spark: —
Still the grass grows,
Still blooms the rose,
And the cock crows in the morning.

4

No more the Bard may look beyond,
For Fame's transfiguration:
The Jew will read his broken bond
By the vast illumination.
A comet will flail old Earth with his tail,
Till aflame with mad prophets to darkness we sail: —
Fleet the grass grows,
Sweet is the rose,
And the cock crows in the morning.

5

Old Earth, all saintly men agree, 's
Foredestined to the Devil:
That's the safe side of prophecy
Which deals at large with evil.
Ye young and fair who fondle there,
The Prophet forbids, & would have ye beware: —
Fresh the grass grows,
Blushes the rose,
And the cock crows in the morning.

6

His [?] vein'd old Earth had noble blood
For many a noble story:
We saw the full years in a broadening flood
To one great ocean-glory.
Then, with a din, of original sin,
Terrible drummings the prophets begin:
Green the grass grows
Queen is the rose,
And the cock crows in the morning.

7

And was not the story heard before?
And will it not be, after?
Mad prophets have damn'd dear Earth of yore,
And Earth has lent her laughter.
So let us say, like our forefathers grey
When the mad prophets bluster'd: and what said they?
Still the grass grows,
Still blooms the rose,
And the cock crows in the morning.