A gray old man, with a descending beard Rugged and hoar, and a still massive face, Met daily in the way: mall, market place, Byway, and thoroughfare his steps have heard At night and noon: the voice, the utterance slow, And downward gesture like a blacksmith's blow, Regardless ear, and eye that would not see, Or saw as if it saw collectively,-- Who does not call to mind? We thought of all, Resembling him to each one,--Plato, Paul, Or him who round besieged Jerusalem Fled, shrieking woe!--woe to himself and them, Until the catapult dashed out his life: Here, on this slab, above the tear and strife. He stood and saw the great world fume and foam on, As on a dial-plate, himself the gnomon; Or, like old Time, he leaned on his scythe-snath, Waiting the harvest of the day of wrath, Now reaping-ripe: anon, with word and blow, He thunders judgment to the throngs below: The end of things he prophesies and paints, And of the rest remaining for God's saints; To one conclusion all his reasons run, And this he sees, taking his hearers on From point to point, though still discursively The addle-eggs about his temples fly. Again he wanders on, you wonder where, And follow pityingly, but miss him there; Forgetful soon, you join the stream and stress Of the great Street; when to yon Porch superb, Behold, the crowd runs, blackening flag and curb, As to their Stoa the Athenians ran, Or Rome to hear her Statius: you rush on; And, in the middle of the jeering press, He, smeared with mud and yellow yolks is, Giving the law, like Zeno or Zamolxis. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CRADLE OF THE DEEP by EMMA HART WILLARD TO LADY CHARLOTTYE GORDON; DRESSED IN A TARTAN SCOTCH BONNET by JAMES BEATTIE THE HOLY DUST by JULIEN AUGUSTE PELAGE BRIZEUX AGAINST WOMEN UNCONSTANT by GEOFFREY CHAUCER |