An unidentified author writes thus of discontent:
When the world was formed and the morn-
ing stars
Upon their paths were sent,
The loftiest-browed of the angels was
named
The Angel of Discontent.
And he dwelt with man in the caves of the
hills,
Where the created serpent stings,
And the tiger tears and the she-wolf howls,
And he told of better things.
And he led man forth in the towered town,
And forth to fields of corn;
And he told of the ampler work ahead
For which the race was born.
And he whispers to men of those hills he sees
In the blush of the golden west;
And they look to the light of his lifted eye
And they hate the name of rest.
In the light of that eye doth the slave be-
hold
A hope that is high and brave,
And the madness of war comes into his
blood
For he knows himself a slave.
The serfs of wrong in the light of that eye
March on with victorious songs;
For the strength of their right comes into
their hearts
When they behold their wrongs.
"Tis by the light of that lifted eye
That error's mists are rent--
A guide to the table-land of Truth
Is the Angel of Discontent.
And still he looks with his lifted eye,
And his glance is far away
On a light that shines on the glimmering
hills
Of a diviner day.
