Classic Poem

When earth and all her seers were sad
The child rose from the floor
He tossed his newspaper cocked hat
And drumming, passed the door.

His crest was but a feather, such
For seraph' wings sufficed:
His sword was but a cross of wood:
So was the cross of Christ.

Above the roofs, above the woods
His ragged regiment curled,
Upon the great white road that is
The girdle of the world.

Not for years was the idle child
Seen by his peoples' eyes,
But strange things done in a distant sea
Came to the ears of the wise.

And the sages stared and ceased to weep—
In the dawn of an ancient light
For the dragon that ate the sun and moon
Lay dead by the seas of night.