On Nikola Tesla

In Tesla's Laboratory
By Robert Underwood-Johnson

Here in the dark what ghostly figures press!-
  No phantom of the Past, or grim or sad;
  No waiting spirit of woe; no specter, clad
In white and wandering cloud, whose dumb distress
Is that its crime it never may confess;
  No shape from the strewn sea; nor they that add
  The link of Life and Death, - the tearless mad,
That live nor die in dreary nothingness:

But blessed spirits waiting to be born-
  Thoughts to unlock the fettering chains of Things;
    The Better Time; the Universal Good.
Their smile is like the joyous break of morn;
    How fair, how near, how wistfully they brood!
  Listen! that murmur is of angels' wings.

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