And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.

The best of what we do and are, Just God, forgive!

And the most difficult of tasks to keep Heights which the soul is competent to gain.

Dreams, books, are each a world.

A lawyer art thou? Draw not nigh! Go, carry to some fitter place The keenness of that practised eye, The hardness of that sallow face.

Ah, what a warning for a thoughtless man, Could field or grove, could any spot of earth, Show to his eye an image of the pangs Which it hath witnessed,-render back an echo Of the sad steps by which it hath been trod!

A voice so thrilling ne'er was heard... Breaking the silence of the seas Among the farthest Hebrides.