300 DARWINISM chap, x 



I 



lines. The marvel will ever remain to the sympathetic 

 student of nature, but I venture to hope that in the pre- 

 ceding chapters I have succeeded in lifting — if only by one 

 of its corners — the veil of mystery which has for long 

 shrouded this department of nature. 



Oa a Peacock's Feather. 



In Nature's workshop but a shaving, 



Of her poem but a word, 

 But a tint brushed from her palette, 



This feather of a bird ! 

 Yet set it in the sun glance, 



Display it in the shine. 

 Take graver's lens, exjjlore it, 



Note filament and line, 

 Mark amethyst to sap|)hire. 



And sapphire to gold. 

 And gold to emerald changing 



The archetype unfold ! 

 Tone, tint, thread, tissue, texture, 



Through every atom scan, 

 Conforming still, developing. 



Obedient to plan. 

 This but to form a pattern 



On the garment of a bird ! 

 What then must be the poem. 



This but its lightest Avord ! 

 Sit before it ; ponder o'er it, 



'Twill thy mind advantage more, 

 Than a treatise, than a sermon, 



Than a library of lore. 



