TO A SHRED OF LINEN.
111
In majesty and mystery, go down
Into the paper-mill, and from its jaws,
Stainless and smooth, emerge. — Happy shall be
The renovation, if on thy fair page
Wisdom and truth, their hallow'd lineaments
Trace for posterity. So shall thine end
Be better than thy birth, and worthier bard
Thine apotheosis immortalize.
