. Poems . f their I by the fireside rock and dream: And, oh, I should be so all alone, Did not the past like the present seem ! But, while I am rocking, my babe again,That I lost, far off in the dimming years, I clasp with the joy that is kin to pain,And water my dusty heart with tears. I 52 LIFE THE EMPERORS HAND THAT hand, that with its shaping forceHad moulded empires at its will,Or stayed at flood the peoples course, Or tempests hushed with, Peace, be still That hand that over Lodis bridgeCleft through the leaden storm a path, And on the Alpine summits ridgeDefied the eternal ice
. Poems . f their I by the fireside rock and dream: And, oh, I should be so all alone, Did not the past like the present seem ! But, while I am rocking, my babe again,That I lost, far off in the dimming years, I clasp with the joy that is kin to pain,And water my dusty heart with tears. I 52 LIFE THE EMPERORS HAND THAT hand, that with its shaping forceHad moulded empires at its will,Or stayed at flood the peoples course, Or tempests hushed with, Peace, be still That hand that over Lodis bridgeCleft through the leaden storm a path, And on the Alpine summits ridgeDefied the eternal ice kings wrath,— That hand now pats his horses maneAs on he rideth through the town : The peoples shout breaks out again,But at his horse he looketh down. So sometimes does a tempest hush,When it has had its stormy hour. To whisper with a wayside bushOr lovingly caress a flower. That hand, that shook a Europe bent beneath its sway, In lone St. Helens discontentIt wiped an Emperors tear HELIOTVFE PRINTING CO., BOSTON THE POETS S3 THE POETS O POETS, seated on Parnassus height,Or ranged in groups upon its sides! I hearYour deathless songs hummed low, or ringing clearTo drown the worlds noise in your sweet glad am I to keep you still in sight, Though to your high seats I may not come , as the stars do make the heavens dear,While we on earth walk through the dreary night; So dost thou shine upon us, and send downThe music of thy rhythmic motions sweetTo make us know that harmony still I but trust thou wouldst not on me frown,Id climb up to the footstool of thy seat,And with my pipe re-echo thy glad strains. 54 LIFE A BLOCK OF MARBLE T 1 fHITE possibility ! Before thee now,* * With chisel and with mallet in my hand,A musing artist, hesitant I wonder with what shape Ill thee endow,—A grand Athene, with majestic brow;A raging Fury, with her flaming brand ;Diana, leading on her huntress band ;Or sea-nymph sporting round
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