Stones from The Quarry or, Moods of Mind. By Henry Browne [i.e. Henry Ellison] |
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AFTER A LONG FOG-SPELL;
LONDON-XXX. |
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 | Stones from The Quarry |  |
AFTER A LONG FOG-SPELL; LONDON-XXX.
Earth, put on steam, and roll this plague away;This mask which smoke-begrimèd Nature wears;
Making Day hideous; who brings not airs
From heaven, but blasts from hell, to choke, waylay
Himself; while Night scarce breathes awhile to pray
Against it, ere her mouth is stopped. Gas flares
To show poor blear-eyed Light the way. Scarce dares
The sun peer through enough for fools to say
“Good morrow!” Civilisation, thou art grand;
And Science, in thy cloak of darkness; yet
This fiend thou canst not exorcise! Hard set
As mouse in an “exhauster,” I would stand
On Mont Blanc, mount in a balloon, to get
A gulp of ozone, and God's air command!
| Stones from The Quarry | |