The New Day: Sonnet XXXII

The thousand volumes of poetic lore
By turns have fortunes and misfortunes made;
One day these piles shall meet the eye no more,
And in their own still honoured dust be laid.
Great work leaves only greater to be done.
New goals are straight a-head; then onward press,--
On Nature's open course the gauntlet run;
She basks in glory at a new success.
The poetry of old is built on dream--
A dream of beauty never coming true!--
But Science shadows forth the nobler theme
Of wondrous Nature; be it sung by you!
Science and Nature, waiting hand in hand,
Now on the threshold of the New Day stand.