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Title: The Photograph
Author: Mary Alice Walton [
More Titles by Walton]
Suspending night with threads of light the sun with signals bold,
Flashed o'er to moon his mate on high, and wondrous secret told;
Together they a photograph of mother earth would make,
When midnight dropped her curtains low and watching stars locked gate.
I'll picture on thy pale round face an image vast, complete,
Of pondrous size with oceans wild and mountains high and steep,
A hurling mass of seething lakes, while outward beauties fold
It round and o'er with nature's green, and tinted crusts of gold.
Quite pleased with thought fair lady moon laughed in merry glee,
And begged the secret not reveal but plan all quietly;
Appointing hour and length of time, arranging for the place,
Then hiding lights at midnight bells, when earth passed o'er her face.
While swinging to a silvered chord attached to heaven's dome,
To and fro 'mid seas of stars and spirit worlds unknown,
Earth onward swept with mighty bounds, measured space, and soon
At place appointed and the hour she hovered near the moon.
But scheming of the comrades bright to her had been revealed,
With telescopes and lenses strong, were millions on the field
Of spots and specks as showered sand, by fays called wo and man,
Who gazed with awe at wondrous sight, earth pictured in moonland.
Inspiring vision piled on high in masses huge and dense;
Where camest thou? thou ragged ball thrown out from time, and whence
Doth thou intend to fathom realms of endless space and years?
Art weary of thy dizzy flights? Are rolling seas thy tears?
The silence mocks the questions sighed, and nought but shadows fall;
The picture made the fairies fade, with dying notes they call.
Doth see the Hand that holds the key? Eclipse of moon they sing,
Go, nations, to thy dreamland couch, and ponder o'er this thing.
[The end]
Mary Alice Walton's poem: Photograph
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