I saw a vision in my sleep,

The earth had swung with secular sweep

To the last gulf of Time.

I saw the last of human mould,

Alone, unfriended, unconsoled

As Adam when the night first rolled

O'er Eden's early prime.

The Sun's eye had a sickly glare,

The Earth with age was wan;

The wrecks of shattered thousands were

Around that lonely man.

Some had expired in pain,—its brands

On clammy face and clutching hands,—

In sudden palsy some.

Among them was no sound or tread

Even of Death among the dead,

Pain's very voice was dumb.

Still, statue-like, that lone one stood,

With fixed earth-seeking eye,

Silent as a flame-blasted wood

When winds have all swept by.

The last surviving unscathed One!

His face was grey, his race was run,

Cold as antarctic snow,

Unmoved by hopes, untouched by fears,

Left by the tide of human tears

That never more may flow.

He moaned, "No more shall man let stand

His power, his pride, his skill;

The arts that made fire, flood, and land

The vassals of his will.

Yet shall I mourn man's vanished sway,

The Systems that have had their day?

Out on the sordid arts,

The triumphs with which earth once rang,

The Progress which spared not one pang

To trampled human hearts!

"No; let oblivion's curtain fall

On me too, last of men.

I would not if I could recall

Life's tragedy again.

Its burden I would not bring back,

Responsibility's iron rack

No more shall make me writhe;

No lapse of vision, loss of word,

Shall make me feel a man abhorred,

Strew earth with slain as by War's sword

Or Death's relentless scythe.

"No more with weary wandering eyes

I'd watch, where, if I tire,

Hundreds in hideous agonies

May helplessly expire.

No man that breathes mere mortal breath

Alone should stand at odds with Death.

Systems? O learning lost!

On nerve, sight, sinew—human all,

And apt to fail at urgent call—

The bitter burden had to fall;—

Behold at what a cost!

"On me it fell, ah! not on Him,

The Corporate Demon dark,

Whose greed of gain gave systems dim

Capricious action. Hark!

The click, the crash! Nay, never mine—

Thank Heaven!—again to watch the line

With chill and catch of breath.

The knowledge that at last I fly

Thy rack, Responsibility,

Takes all the sting from Death!

"'Justice' no more shall hale me up

To answer this wild waste

Of human life. That bitter cup

At least I shall not taste.

Go, Sun, and say,—if e'er thy face

Shine on another earthly race,—

On what an ill-paid clod

Man laid Responsibility—

Because its Justice ruled awry,

And Mammon was its god."