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- I long for days of yesteryear, when angels walked the land.
- When cool winds blew and warm flames licked the mountain halls so grand,
- When voices whispered from the earth and words appeared on stone,
- When blinding pillars fell from heav’n and time through portals shown.
- Today, instead, are heavens closed? Have angels gone and hid?
- The stones now cold, the voices hushed, the shadows the light rid?
- Prolific words of heaven’s throne replaced by leaky drop?
- The silenced trump encased in gold? Do keys not open lock?
- Will tokens, signs, and names endure, or will they vanish, too?
- Will compass lose its magnet soon? Will rule its measure true?
- No humming bees? No singing birds? No rustle in the grove?
- The puny arm stretched forth indeed the Missouri mighty slowed?
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