For The Tribune.

GEE N I U S

BY sTEPHEN b. DEAN
{"character_count": 1443, "word_count": 259, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9175000190734863], "ccnet_perplexity": [2295.699951171875], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
..."Se ths; while he ithc Geninsgfed is in the midst
OF asd doing his part in the affairs of the World his
spirit has called iary yision and he g walking ID a
dream lit round about him his for consoe-
ton; and out OF the gloom OF his afction be loohs o
horizon touched with morning twilight and grow;
The Worlds neglect when eak cold upon him. and his
friends are gons he has where 10 rest tired spirit !hsl
Others know not of and headings ior wounded mind
which others can never feel" X ID. O9'a
SPIRIT that peoplest Void with Life;
Creative Genius! thou;
Come, ease the heart from Care and Strife,


And lay these scourgers low.
Wha, though this form be prison-barred,


Or sheltered meath shed,
It's limbs repose on pallet hard,


And pillowlcss its head;
Still thou canst light the prisons gloom


With Eden's primal hues;
Thine is the power which can Hume


It's walls with fadelcss views.
The ills Of life may hem me round,


May leave me sad and lore;
Still midst the gloom thou send ST sound


a low and harp-like tone
So soft it soothcs the moaning wall


That 'scapes my spirit here


Sweet Hynnings of the Spirit-veiled,


Meiodious, reach mine ear.
In viewless air thou paintst form


My spirit loves to trace
She who rules still its p2ssion-storm,


And gives tho Lyre its grace.
All, all the bright the good, find,


Mysterious Genius thou
From Thoughts abysm, dost unbind


Come, bind its scourgers low!
Ne.u- York, aug. 8, 1872