Upon his brow.

"Behold a genius, filled with fire divine!"
The people cried;
Not knowing that to make him what he was
Two men had died.




Song of the Sleeper


SLEEPER rest quietly
Deep underground!
Lord of your kingdom
Of murmurous sound.
Hear the grass growing
Sweet for the mowing;
Hear the stars sing
As they travel around--
Grass blade and star dust,
You, I, and all of us,
One with the cause of us,
Deep underground!

Murmur not, sleeper!
Yours is the key
To all things that were and
To all things that be--