Before thy grisly front no man may stand; No heart but quakes at sounding of thy feet; Thy coming none may flee, though ne'er so fleet, And trembling earth confesses thy command. From kings their crowns thou pluck'st and from the hand Of Power its scepter; thou mock'st the vacant seat Of Pride or Love; nor high nor low degree may cheat Thee of thy tribute, Lord of sea and land. Dreadful art thou, and terrible thy power Against our piteous frailty doomed to die! Weakly we lift our fending hands in vain, And crouching wait the inexorable hour, The thunderbolt of thy dark sovereignty To smite and blast us with its mighty pain! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: WIDOW MCFARLANE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NOCTURNE OF REMEMBERED SPRING by CONRAD AIKEN A SUMMER'S GARDEN by ROBERT FROST LET ME NOT HATE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE FRUIT GARDEN PATH by AMY LOWELL IF HE SHOULD COME by EDWIN MARKHAM TO WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ON TAGORE by MARIANNE MOORE HYBRIDS OF WAR: A MORALITY POEM: 3. THAILALND by KAREN SWENSON |