SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD (7) - Druckversion +- Sonett-Forum (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum) +-- Forum: Sonett-Archiv (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=126) +--- Forum: Sonette aus germanischen Sprachen (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=394) +---- Forum: Englische Sonette (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=818) +----- Forum: Autoren C (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=831) +------ Forum: Cranch, Christopher Pearse (https://sonett-archiv.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=1108) +------ Thema: SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD (7) (/showthread.php?tid=16688) |
SEVEN WONDERS OF THE WORLD (7) - ZaunköniG - 15.07.2007 THE PRINTING-PRESS. IN boyhood's days we read with keen delight How young Aladdin rubbed his lamp and raised The towering Djin whose form his soul amazed, Yet who was pledged to serve him day and night. But Gutenberg evoked a giant sprite Of vaster power, when Europe stood and gazed To see him rub his types with ink. Then blazed Across the lands a glorious shape of light, Who stripped the cowl from priests, the crown from kings, And hand in hand with Faith and Science wrought To free the struggling spirit's limèd wings, And guard the ancestral throne of sovereign Thought. The world was dumb. Then first it found its tongue And spake — and heaven and earth in answer rung. THE OCEAN STEAMER. WITH streaming pennons, scorning sail and oar, With steady tramp and swift revolving wheel, And even pulse from throbbing heart of steel, She plies her arrowy course from shore to shore. In vain the siren calms her steps allure; In vain the billows thunder on her keel; Her giant form may toss and rock and reel And shiver in the wintry tempest's roar; The calms and storms alike her pride can spurn. True to the day she keeps her appointed time. Long leagues of ocean vanish at her stern — She drinks the air, and tastes another clime, Where men their former wonder fast unlearn, Which hailed her coming as a thing sublime. THE LOCOMOTIVE. WHIRLING along its living freight, it came, Hot, panting, fierce, yet docile to command — The roaring monster, blazing through the land Athwart the night, with crest of smoke and flame; Like those weird bulls Medea learned to tame By sorcery, yoked to plough the Colchian strand In forced obedience under Jason's hand. Yet modern skill outstripped this antique fame, When o'er our plains and through the rocky bar Of hills it pushed its ever-lengthening line Of iron roads, with gain far more divine Than when the daring Argonauts from far Came for the golden fleece, which like a star Hung clouded in the dragon-guarded shrine. THE TELEGRAPH AND TELEPHONE. FLEETER than time, across the Continent, Through unsunned ocean depths, from beach to beach, Around the rolling globe Thought's couriers reach. The new-tuned earth like some vast instrument Tingles from zone to zone; for Art has lent New nerves, new pulse, new motion — all to each, And each to all, in swift electric speech Bound by a force unwearied and unspent. Now lone Katahdin talks with Caucasus; The Arctic ice-fields with the sultry South, The sun-bathed palm thrills to the pine-tree's call. We for all realms were made, and they for us. For all there is a soul, an ear, a mouth; And Time and Space are naught. The mind is all. THE PHOTOGRAPH. PHŒBUS APOLLO, from Olympus driven, Lived with Admetus, tending herds and flocks: And strolling o'er the pastures and the rocks He found his life much duller than in Heaven. For he had left his bow, his songs, his lyre, His divinations and his healing skill, And as a serf obeyed his master's will. One day a new thought waked an old desire. He took to painting, with his colors seven, The sheep, the cows, the faces of the swains, All shapes and hues in forests and on plains. These old sun-pictures all are lost, or given Away among the gods. Man owns but half The Sun-god's secret — in the Photograph. THE SPECTROSCOPE. ALL honor to that keen Promethean soul Who caught the prismic hues of Jove and Mars, And from the glances of the dædal stars, And from the fiery sun, the secret stole That all are parts of one primeval Whole, — One substance beaming through Creation's bars Consent and peace, amid the chemic wars Of gases and of atoms. Yonder roll The planets; yonder, baffling human thought, Suns, systems, all whose burning hearts are wooed To one confession — so hath Science caught Those eye-beams frank, whose speech cannot delude, — How of one stuff our mortal earth is wrought With stars in their divine infinitude. THE MICROPHONE THE small enlarged, the distant nearer brought To sight, made marvels in a denser age. But Science turns with every year a page In the enchanted volume of her thought. The wizard's wand no longer now is sought. Yet with a cunning toy the Archimage May hear from Rome Vesuvius' thunders rage, And earthquake mutterings underground are caught, Alike with trivial sounds. Would there might rise Some spiritual seer, some prophet wise, Whose tactile vision would avert the woes Born of conflicting forces in the state; — Some listener to the deep volcanic throes Below the surface — ere we cry, - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -"Too late!" |