THE KING'S IMAGE.

Of iron were his arms; they could have held

The need of half the kingdom up; and in

His brow were iron atoms too. Thus was

He built. His heart, observe, was wrought of gold,

Burnished; it dazzled one to look at it.

His feet were carved of clay — and so he fell.

Clay unto clay shall perish and return.

The tooth of rust shall gnaw the iron down.

The conqueror of time, gold must endure.

Thou great amalgam! Suffering in thyself,

The while inflicting still the certain fate

Of thy disharmony. From Nature's law,

Unto her law, thy doom appeals; bids thee

To fear the metal sinews of thy soul,

And scorn the dust on which thou totterest;

But save, oh, save the heart of gold for one

Who did, beholding, trust in it.