The After-Thought
| Hear my cry, O God the Reader; vouchsafe that this
my book fall not still-born into the world-wilderness. Let there
spring, Gentle One, from out its leaves vigor of thought and
thoughtful deed to reap the harvest wonderful. (Let the ears of a
guilty people tingle with truth, and seventy millions sigh for the
righteousness which exalteth nations, in this drear day when human
brotherhood is mockery and a snare.) Thus in Thy good time may
infinite reason turn the tangle straight, and these crooked marks on
a fragile leaf be not indeed
THE END |
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