Merry Christmas, souvenir edition of poems . and flame. When many million ages roll before the human eye,Earths cooling center shrinking leaves the beds of ocean dry,Or by some seismic rupture when the isles their shapes reviseFrom out the world of water man may see Atlantis rise. Far in the futures future when her clime has changed its zone,Her valleysveiled with verdure and her hills new groves have grown,And crowded populations dot again her fruitful plainsSome future archaeologist may unearth her lost remains. I can are the thunder-words that driveThe submarine and navigate the air; I cant
Merry Christmas, souvenir edition of poems . and flame. When many million ages roll before the human eye,Earths cooling center shrinking leaves the beds of ocean dry,Or by some seismic rupture when the isles their shapes reviseFrom out the world of water man may see Atlantis rise. Far in the futures future when her clime has changed its zone,Her valleysveiled with verdure and her hills new groves have grown,And crowded populations dot again her fruitful plainsSome future archaeologist may unearth her lost remains. I can are the thunder-words that driveThe submarine and navigate the air; I cant is the epitaph of failureUpon the tombstone of despair. From the present looking backwardLies the past a field of blood, And the cries of crime are waftedOer the centuries crimson flood. Long I to uplift the fallen Ere I sleep within the tomb, See the heathen lands converted,See the Christian bud in bloom. I may not behold the blossom But twill bloom and bear its fruit, For the Christ shall reap the harvestWhere the Gospel seed takes » GRADY T. CANTRELL
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