THE SERMON OF A STATUE.
15
Laughing with blue-eyed wonder, he said: "Look,
This one (but do you know him?) has a book!"
This one (but do you know him?) has a book!"
. . . I know him. Ay, and all the world knows him,—
Among the many poets the one only!
On that high head the stainéd gloom was dim;
In those fixed eyes the look of gods was lonely.
Kings at his feet, to whom his hand gave fame,
Lay, dust and ashes, shining through his name.
Among the many poets the one only!
On that high head the stainéd gloom was dim;
In those fixed eyes the look of gods was lonely.
Kings at his feet, to whom his hand gave fame,
Lay, dust and ashes, shining through his name.
I heard him. With the still voice of the dead
From that stone page, right careless of derision,
Sad jesters of a faithless age! he read
How the great globe would vanish like a vision,
With all that it inhabit. . . . And hath he
Then writ but one word, and that—Vanity?
From that stone page, right careless of derision,
Sad jesters of a faithless age! he read
How the great globe would vanish like a vision,
With all that it inhabit. . . . And hath he
Then writ but one word, and that—Vanity?
