The World-Conquereor
Not he who wanders on the wings of steam
O'er all the earth, rejoicing as the sky,
The hills, the plains, the cities past him fly
In one wild endless brain-bewildering gleam,—
Not he who, yet more eager, yokes for team
The lightnings, tamed in electricity,—
Not this man wins the immortal heights that lie
Beyond his soulless gaze, his sordid dream.
That man is conqueror of the world of things,
He holds the stars of all the heavens encased
Within his hand, and rules the dark-blue waste
Of sky, to whom one small bright violet brings
The gift of vast imagination's wings,
Who on one woman's lips all joys can taste.
O'er all the earth, rejoicing as the sky,
The hills, the plains, the cities past him fly
In one wild endless brain-bewildering gleam,—
Not he who, yet more eager, yokes for team
The lightnings, tamed in electricity,—
Not this man wins the immortal heights that lie
Beyond his soulless gaze, his sordid dream.
That man is conqueror of the world of things,
He holds the stars of all the heavens encased
Within his hand, and rules the dark-blue waste
Of sky, to whom one small bright violet brings
The gift of vast imagination's wings,
Who on one woman's lips all joys can taste.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.