|THE mighty sweep of thought outwings the flight
Of day, of lightnings through the cloud of rain,
Of meteors, who flash their fiery chain
Across the heavens before our tardy sight.
Out-travels yet the golden gleam of light
Which, bursting from their burning fountains, gain
With one tremendous leap the darkened main,
Where slept the chaos of eternal night.
Thought is a winged steed, and well controlled
It bears its rider into depths unknown;
It shifts the veil of myst'ry from his eye,
And gives his soul a look beyond this mould
Of earthly elements to scenes not shown
His natural sight, beyond the mental sky.
__James A. DeMoss
James A. DeMoss
(Thayer, Kansas: ___. 1892)