THE STUDENT.
87
Even as the sheaves the dreaming patriarch saw
Bow to the master sheaf. Each lightning flash
Of his sublime and glorious intellect
Is followed by the long, loud thunder-peal
Of popular acclaim. Lone and bereft
In heart, he sways a mighty people's hearts,
And moves majestic in his pride of place,
Lord of the realm's applause. Ah, little know
The idolizing world the bitter throes
That rend his soul, the weary woe he bears
Without a word or sign. His power and fame
Are all they know or seek to know. No eye
Save God's may see him in his solitude,
When, 'mid the holy stillness of the night,
He turns from all life's glittering pomp away,
And weeps and sobs, ay, like a very child.
Bow to the master sheaf. Each lightning flash
Of his sublime and glorious intellect
Is followed by the long, loud thunder-peal
Of popular acclaim. Lone and bereft
In heart, he sways a mighty people's hearts,
And moves majestic in his pride of place,
Lord of the realm's applause. Ah, little know
The idolizing world the bitter throes
That rend his soul, the weary woe he bears
Without a word or sign. His power and fame
Are all they know or seek to know. No eye
Save God's may see him in his solitude,
When, 'mid the holy stillness of the night,
He turns from all life's glittering pomp away,
And weeps and sobs, ay, like a very child.
