The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began,
Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.

The prophet's mantle, ere his flight began,
Dropt on the world--a sacred gift to man.

Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word;
And in its hollow tones are heard
The thanks of read more

Thy voice sounds like a prophet's word;
And in its hollow tones are heard
The thanks of millions yet to be.

Prognostics do not always prove prophecies, at least the wisest
prophets make sure of the event first.

Prognostics do not always prove prophecies, at least the wisest
prophets make sure of the event first.

Prophet of evil! never hadst thou yet
A cheerful word for me. To mark the signs
Of read more

Prophet of evil! never hadst thou yet
A cheerful word for me. To mark the signs
Of coming mischief is thy great delight,
Good dost thou ne'er foretell nor bring to pass.

O my prophetic soul!
My uncle?

O my prophetic soul!
My uncle?

It takes a mind like Dannel's, fact, ez big ez all ou'doors
To find out thet it looks like read more

It takes a mind like Dannel's, fact, ez big ez all ou'doors
To find out thet it looks like rain arter it fairly pours.

This solemn moment of triumph, one of the greatest moments in the
history of the world . . . read more

This solemn moment of triumph, one of the greatest moments in the
history of the world . . . this great hour which rings in a new
era . . . and which is going to lift up humanity to a higher
plane of existence for all the ages of the future.

There is a history in all men's lives,
Figuring the nature of the times deceased,
The which read more

There is a history in all men's lives,
Figuring the nature of the times deceased,
The which observed, a man may prophesy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet not come to life, which in their seeds
And weak beginnings lie intreasured.

A tunnel underneath the sea from Calais straight to Dover, Sir,
The squeamish folks may cross by land from read more

A tunnel underneath the sea from Calais straight to Dover, Sir,
The squeamish folks may cross by land from shore to shore,
With sluices made to drown the French, if e'er they would come
over, Sir,
Has long been talk'd of, till at length 'tis thought a monstrous
bore.