 | Poems and Lancashire Songs |  |
Strange were the implements, the labour strange;
The little rill of art was big with change;
With loving care, the initiated few
There, brought the infant mystery to view;
And, as in dim secluded gloom they toiled,
Fate's folded skein of printed thought uncoiled;
Whilst the hushed murmurs of the working throng
Mingled with solemn strains of sacred song:
There learned churchmen pondered in amaze,
And kingly patrons dealt bewildered praise:
Ah, little dreamt they what that germ contained,—
What vast, upheaving powers, heaven-ordained!
The little rill of art was big with change;
With loving care, the initiated few
There, brought the infant mystery to view;
And, as in dim secluded gloom they toiled,
Fate's folded skein of printed thought uncoiled;
Whilst the hushed murmurs of the working throng
Mingled with solemn strains of sacred song:
There learned churchmen pondered in amaze,
And kingly patrons dealt bewildered praise:
Ah, little dreamt they what that germ contained,—
What vast, upheaving powers, heaven-ordained!
| Poems and Lancashire Songs | |