A swift-winged message came across the sea :
In silent depths the mystic race was run,



Poetry and Prose of LFarie R. Butlc?: y ?



Ere yet the winds, that wander far and free,

Unfurled the damp wings of the morning sun —
Who rose at last to find his crown was won,

His ancient crown that never rival wore.
Won by the lightning with his harness on, —

Across a track no rival ventures o'er, —

Beneath the bosom of the deep from shore to shore.
This is the wedding of the East and West,
This close communion of divided lands ;

And children shall "rise up and call them blessed"
Who o'er this ocean cable join their hands.
"These lines go out through all the earth," these
bands

Unite the world's divided hopes and fears;

These are prophetic hours, and Times low sands

Are dropping out the days, when, sown in tears.
The world's broad harvest ripens for millennial years.
This is the miracle of later days, —

The mind's last triumph o'er material things ;
We draw the lightning from his cloud-lined ways.
And bind our thoughts upon his fiery wings.
Thus all the universe its tribute brings
To man, who waiteth for his crown and throne ;

And we, descended from a line of kings.
Find in all kingdoms subjects for our own ; —
Our own, which is not yet, till these in wreck are
strewn.
Men plan and struggle, but the years fulfill
Prophetic marches on the destined road ;

Believing grandly in a finite will,

We doubt the wisdom and the power of God ;



^7 Poetry and Prose of Marie R. Butler.
