To me this signifies that my life's real task is now
beginning, the Sphinx is fitting me for glorious work. What and
where, I care not; but ambitious hope leads me on, past wealth and
power to visions of a temple of divine, pictorial art. Fain would I
guide my light, frivolous thoughts long enough into the calm channels
of serious reflection to bid you, my kind readers, a dignified
farewell and express the sincere hope that, when we have prospected
life's mortal vein to the end of time and our souls soar on the last
blast of Gabriel's trumpet to shining sands on shores of bliss
eternal.
AN UNCANNY STONE.
(A sequel to the last chapter of "Wooed by a Sphinx of Astlan."')
"Gigantic shadows, dancing in the twilight
Fade with the sun's last golden ray.
On quivering bat-wings, sad and silent,
Flits darkness--night pursuing day.
Hark! as the twelfth hour sounds its knell
At midnight, tolls a whimpering bell
When yawning graves profane their secrecy.
Ghosts stalk in dreamland haunting memory
And spectral visions of departed friends arise
Who freed of sin, that fetter of mortality,
With Angels in their kingdom of Eternal Life
Grace Heaven's choir of harmony."
The third day of July A. D.
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