And the cycle brought its changes, As the moons were waxing, waning. Paved streets and handsome houses, Busy shops and tradesmen's houses, Office, inn, and people's houses, Cottage white and mansion costly, Structures high and structures lowly, Marked the once secluded valley, Graced the once sequestered hillside. By and by the streets were fashioned From the model of McAdam, And adorned the youthful city. Richmond, Mulberry, and Paulding, Danville, Lexington, and Water, Stanford, Campbell, and Crab Orchard, Were the windings of the city. And the noisy hum of traffic, And the roll of cart and carriage, Told of barter and of bargain, Told of human gains and losses, Scared away the beasts and birdlings, Locked and dammed and bridged the rivers, Chained the rolling streams and rivers. Schools were opened, where the people Learned to read and write and cipher. Coaches linked the growing city With the busy world around it. Youths and maidens joined in wedlock, Parents knelt at family altars, Children gamboled in the playgrounds, Cats and dogs and cows and horses, Swine and animals of burden, Followed man, the master spirit, And supplied domestic comfort. Lawyers, doctors, merchants, traders, Preachers, artisans, and idlers, From afar and near flocked hither; And the "continental coppers" Were in speedy circulation. Spinning, weaving, sewing, knitting, Filled the women's dextrous fingers, And the homespun and the linsey Were the choice and boasted fabrics, Furnished strong and useful garments, In the day of early settlers. Social gatherings were frequent, 'Round log fires and tallow candles, And the quaint old invitations To some public house or "tavern," Call a smile to faces modern; "Come and join a square cotillon At the hour of four precisely,"-- Was the custom of the city, Of the sensible young city. Sights and sounds all strange and novel, Filled the wood with unknown echoes; Man, the civilized, wrought changes, And the olden landmarks vanished. CANTO III. 1796-1812. ANCIENT BUILDINGS.