.
"A fitter tale to scream than sing," The Book-man said.

"Well, fancy, then," The Reader answered, "on the wing The sea-birds shriek it, not for men, But in the ear of wave and breeze!" The Traveller mused: "Your Manisees Is fairy-land: off Narragansett shore Who ever saw the isle or heard its name before?
"'T is some strange land of Flyaway, Whose dreamy shore the ship beguiles, St.Brandan's in its sea-mist gray, Or sunset loom of Fortunate Isles!" "No ghost, but solid turf and rock Is the good island known as Block," The Reader said.

"For beauty and for ease I chose its Indian name, soft-flowing Manisees! "But let it pass; here is a bit Of unrhymed story, with a hint Of the old preaching mood in it, The sort of sidelong moral squint Our friend objects to, which has grown, I fear, a habit of my own.
'Twas written when the Asian plague drew near, And the land held its breath and paled with sudden fear." ABRAHAM DAVENPORT The famous Dark Day of New England, May 19, 1780, was a physical puzzle for many years to our ancestors, but its occurrence brought something more than philosophical speculation into the winds of those who passed through it.

The incident of Colonel Abraham Davenport's sturdy protest is a matter of history.
In the old days (a custom laid aside With breeches and cocked hats) the people sent Their wisest men to make the public laws.
And so, from a brown homestead, where the Sound Drinks the small tribute of the Mianas, Waved over by the woods of Rippowams, And hallowed by pure lives and tranquil deaths, Stamford sent up to the councils of the State Wisdom and grace in Abraham Davenport.
'T was on a May-day of the far old year Seventeen hundred eighty, that there fell Over the bloom and sweet life of the Spring, Over the fresh earth and the heaven of noon, A horror of great darkness, like the night In day of which the Norland sagas tell,-- The Twilight of the Gods.

The low-hung sky Was black with ominous clouds, save where its rim Was fringed with a dull glow, like that which climbs The crater's sides from the red hell below.
Birds ceased to sing, and all the barn-yard fowls Roosted; the cattle at the pasture bars Lowed, and looked homeward; bats on leathern wings Flitted abroad; the sounds of labor died; Men prayed, and women wept; all ears grew sharp To hear the doom-blast of the trumpet shatter The black sky, that the dreadful face of Christ Might look from the rent clouds, not as he looked A loving guest at Bethany, but stern As Justice and inexorable Law.
Meanwhile in the old State House, dim as ghosts, Sat the lawgivers of Connecticut, Trembling beneath their legislative robes.
"It is the Lord's Great Day! Let us adjourn," Some said; and then, as if with one accord, All eyes were turned to Abraham Davenport.
He rose, slow cleaving with his steady voice The intolerable hush.