THREE SONNETS TO THE AUTHOR OF ION. 3

[ZaunköniG]

THREE SONNETS TO THE AUTHOR OF ION.

                            III.

Fine age is ours, and marvellous-setting free
Hopes that were bending into grey despairs,
Winnowing iron like chaff , outspeeding the airs,
Conquering with smoky flag the winds at sea,

Flinging with thunderous wheels immeasurably,
Knowledge, like daily light: so that man stares
  Planet-struck with his work-day world, nor dares
Repeat the old babble of what “ shall never be."

A great, good age !-Greatest and best in this,-
  That it strikes dumb the old anti-creeds, which parted
Man from the child-prosperity from the bliss

Of faith in good-and toil of wealth unthwarted
From leisure crown'd with bay, such as thine is,
Talfourd ! a lawyer prosperous and young-hearted.



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