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 The tints of the rainbow—bears upon his sting The deadliest venom. Ere the dolphin dies Its hues are brightest. Like an infant's breath Are tropic winds before the voice of death

Is heard upon the waters, summoning The midnight earthquake from its sleep of years To do its task of woe. The clouds that fling The lightning, brighten ere the bolt appears; The pantings of the warrior's heart are proud Upon that battle morn whose night-dews wet his shroud;

The sonsun [sic] is loveliest as he sinks to rest; The leaves of autumn smile when fading fast; The swan's last song is sweetest—and the best Of Meigs's speeches, doubtless, was his last. And thus the happiest scene, in these my rhymes, Closed with a crash, and ushered in—hard times.

St. Paul's tolled one—and fifteen minutes after Down came, by accident, a chandelier; The mansion tottered from the floor to rafter! Up rose the cry of agony and fear! And there was shrieking, screaming, bustling, fluttering, Beyond the power of writing or of uttering.