They brought me ambrotypes br Of the old pioneers to enlarge. br And sometimes one sat for me— br Some one who was in being br When giant hands from the womb of the world br Tore the republic. br What was it in their eyes?— br For I could never fathom br That mystical pathos of drooped eyelids, br And the serene sorrow of their eyes. br It was like a pool of water, br Amid oak trees at the edge of a forest, br Where the leaves fall, br As you hear the crow of a cock br From a far-off farm house, seen near the hills br Where the third generation lives, and the strong men br And the strong women are gone and forgotten.