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THE POET.
85
And in the bordure of her robe was writ
Wisdom, a name to shake
Hoar anarchies, as with a thunderfit.
And when she spake,
Wisdom, a name to shake
Hoar anarchies, as with a thunderfit.
And when she spake,
Her words did gather thunder as they ran,
And as the lightning to the thunder
Which follows it, riving the spirit of man,
Making earth wonder,
And as the lightning to the thunder
Which follows it, riving the spirit of man,
Making earth wonder,
So was their meaning to her words. No sword
Of wrath her right arm hurled,
But one poor poet's scroll, and with his word
She shook the world.
Of wrath her right arm hurled,
But one poor poet's scroll, and with his word
She shook the world.
