Or, echo, mocking us with sound,
     Repeat the busy voice, we pray,
     Of moiling thousands, now dull clay,
     And waken up the gloom profound.

     Pale, shimmering ghosts that flit around,
     While spade and mattock death-fields glean,
     Open with words from the unseen
     The mysteries now in cerements bound.

     No answer yet!  We gaze in vain. 
     With lamp and lore let science come. 
     Now, clear eyed maiden!!—­You, too, dumb! 
     Your light gone out!!—­’tis night again.

     And is this all? an earthen pot! 
     A broken spear! a copper pin! 
     Earth’s grandest prizes counted in,
     A burial mound!—­the common lot!

     Yes! this were all; but o’er the mound,
     The stars, that fill the midnight sky,
     Are eyes from Heaven that watch on high
     Till domesday’s thrilling life-note sound.

* * * * *

TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES

   Page 9 (b):  The following changes have been made from the original
   text: 

      come changed to came (it came from a distant locality);

      impliments changed to implements (crushed in by one of these
      implements.)

   Some paragraphs appear to end mid-sentence; however no text is missing
   from the source document.  The author chose to turn the end of those
   sentences into paragraph headings.