The Falling Stars

SHEPHERD, thou say'st there is a star
Which rules our changeful destinies:
Can mortal vision soar so far,
Or pierce such mighty mysteries?
Shepherd, 'tis said thy mind recals
The lore of grey departed seers:
say, what is yonder star which falls,
Which falls, falls, and disappears?

My son, a child of joy expired,
Yon was his star which glided by,
The friendly feast, by mirth inspired,
Has witnessed his departing sigh;
He sang of wine and beauty's thralls,
Round went his jokes and witty jeers
There is another star which falls.
Which falls, falls, and disappears!

My son, it is a star of light,
Of one beloved, and young and fair,

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poem by Charles Mackay
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An Appeal To Paris

BEAUTIFUL Paris! morning star of nations!
The Lucifer of cities, lifting high
The beacon blaze of young democracy!
Medina and Gomorrha both in one
Medina of a high and holy creed
To be developed in a coming time!
Gomorrha, rampant with all vice and guilt
Luxurious, godless, grovelling, soaring Paris,
Laden with intellect, and yet not wise
Metropolis of satire and lampoon,
Of wit, of elegance, of mirth, of song,
And fearful tragedies done day by day,
Which put our hair on end in the open streets
The busy hive of awful memories,
The potent arbiter of popular will,
The great electric centre whence the shocks
Of pulsing freedom vibrate through tbe world-
Beautiful Paris! sacred to our hearts,
With all thy folly, all thy wickedness-
If but for Bailly, Vergniaud, Gensonne,

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poem by Charles Mackay
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