Sansone

Written for the Codrikb. I have before me a picture, A picture wlerdly strange With au expression of falbomless meaulne And eyes ofllmitless range. What Is it thou seest In the dlstance ? Dost ttiou dream oía race tliat's dead Over whose citles Ín ruins Thou hast reared thy terrible head. ür dost thou look to the future For a race that Ís yet un born ? At wbose coming thy speü shall be broken And the might of lts charm be shorn. Speak.spenk with thy lips so sileñt ! And thy thouuhts so dark and droar That tliev give tu thy facean expression. Which mov'at the beholder with fear. Or dost thou dread thlne own whisper? Or e'en the sound of a breath Whose very sllghtest rustle Would curse thy reigu with death. I scarce daré stlr Ín thy presence L,est the sound of my movement should On Ihy wierd and awful beautr Itell AlKt rob il of tssnnl!