Where is it now, the glory and the dream?
He murmurs near the running brooks A music sweeter than their own.
Let Nature be your teacher
Open-mindedness is the harvest of a quiet eye.
Men are we, and must grieve when even the shade Of that which once was great is passed away.
And now I see with eye serene, The very pulse of the machine. A being breathing thoughtful breaths, A traveler between life and death.