Glaucus; Or, The Wonders of the Shore

“Embraced his Eve in happy hour, And every bird in Eden burst In carol, every bud in flower,” those marks were there; the records of the “Age of ice;” slight, truly; to be effaced by the next farmer who needs to build a wall; but unmistakeable, boundless in significance, like Crusoe’s one savage footprint on the sea-shore; and the naturalist acknowledges the finger-mark of God, and wonders, and worships.