27.10.2007, 21:18
THE PAST DETHRONED.
THY reign is done. The old fresh springs are fled,
The amorous summers are burned out and cold,
Scattered and spent is autumn's ruddy gold,
And light the earth lies on fierce winter's head ;
The Past, or good or ill, is done and dead,
And shall not rise : bury the corpse : behold
The Future beckons beautiful and bold,
Bury the corpse and let no tears be shed.
'Tis in my heart as in some tyrant's court
Where men have trembled 'neath the pale King's frown
Hour after hour in silence, till kneels one
To sue for mercy at his feet, stops short,
Cries He is dead and hurls him headlong down,
And the air rings with joy. Thy reign is done.
THY reign is done. The old fresh springs are fled,
The amorous summers are burned out and cold,
Scattered and spent is autumn's ruddy gold,
And light the earth lies on fierce winter's head ;
The Past, or good or ill, is done and dead,
And shall not rise : bury the corpse : behold
The Future beckons beautiful and bold,
Bury the corpse and let no tears be shed.
'Tis in my heart as in some tyrant's court
Where men have trembled 'neath the pale King's frown
Hour after hour in silence, till kneels one
To sue for mercy at his feet, stops short,
Cries He is dead and hurls him headlong down,
And the air rings with joy. Thy reign is done.