 | Rhymes to be traded for bread |  |
THE PILGRIMS FROM ASIA.
(IN THE DISTANT FUTURE.)
I HAVE WATCHED MULTITUDES OF SCHOLARS COMETO HAUNT YOUR FOOT-STEPS, LINCOLN, IN OUR TOWN;
EACH PILGRIM PACING FROM THE DAYS TO BE,
CLAD IN A GLITTERING STRANGE-RUSTLING GOWN.
UPON THEIR FLAGS AND SASHES, CLOAKS AND COATS
NEW ASIA'S SYMBOLS, RICH EMBROIDERED THINGS;
(STRONG MEN, SET FREE FROM PRIDES THAT LEAVE US PLAIN,
BROCADED MORE THAN BABYLONIAN KINGS:)
THEIR FACES TOUCHED WITH CULTURES NOW UNKNOWN,
THEIR EYES ALIGHT WITH WISDOMS WE DESIRE,
DOING LONG HONORS TO THE AUSTERK DEAD,
WITH BANNER, PANTOMIME AND SONG AND FIRE.
THOSE WORTHIER DAYS SHALL HAIL THEM FREEDOM'S SEERS:
SELF-MASTERING CHIEFS WITH GENIUS IN CONTROL.
AND YET, THAT MARVELLOUS WORLD SHALL TURN TO THIS,
TRACING SWEET FREEDOM BACK TO LINCOLN'S SOUL.
| Rhymes to be traded for bread | |