And there in numbers wrote in mimic hand
The story of a life upon the sand;
But soon the tide washed out the poet's rhyme.
A fair sweet flower within its proper clime,
Alone, unseen, touched by some magic wand,
Drooped its fresh face and wept upon the land.
Poet and flower alike is life sublime.
But whence, O Life! come these fair things, the
That blooms, the bard who sings, the sea, the sky,
The scenes of love with their enraptured hour,
When everything of earth is born to die?.
There is no Oedipus with godlike power,
To guess the riddle of Life's mystery.
The Song of Kansas
(Topeka: Crane & Company. 1890)