The Triumph of Man
Say: Who is this that cometh royally,
Up out of Edom with his garments red
Of sun and star and clay of quick and dead?
Master and prince and victor: It is I.
A strange new youth is on me not of song
Nor fiery wine, nor woman's kisses dim
But of the long night's strife I strove with him
Where face is secret and whose hands are strong.
Hear! for one great hours triumph. Not in me,
Nor any hope of mind do I rejoice
But in a meadows-game of girls and boys
Some sunset in the centuries to be.
Up out of Edom with his garments red
Of sun and star and clay of quick and dead?
Master and prince and victor: It is I.
A strange new youth is on me not of song
Nor fiery wine, nor woman's kisses dim
But of the long night's strife I strove with him
Where face is secret and whose hands are strong.
Hear! for one great hours triumph. Not in me,
Nor any hope of mind do I rejoice
But in a meadows-game of girls and boys
Some sunset in the centuries to be.
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