Page:Poems Hoffman.djvu/227

Thy sun that smiles thee and thy clouds between
Casts o'er thy features a transparent sheen;
From Night's fleet chariot, her priestess pale
Spreads o'er thy slumbering face a silvery veil.
Yes; in great beauty are thy features planned
Molded by an all wise, almighty hand.

Earth, thou hast glory, pomp and pride are thine,
Thy sun of promise knoweth no decline,
Thy might is sung by vast assemblages
And grand processions offer thee their praise,
Resounding aisles thy eulogies prolong
And martialed hosts repeat thy triumph song;
They pass away to rest beneath thy turf
Or make their graves below thy briny suri,
But other tongues awake the dying strain
And chant the endless anthem of thy fame;
Yes, thou hast glory, mighty Earth, on thee
Waiteth unrivaled pomp and pageantry.

Thou hast all these, oh Earth! all these are thine.
Beauty and wealth and pageantry combine
To serve thee during all thy long career,
These have been thine for many, many a year;
These shall be thine, thy jeweled hands may hold
All that thou hast of glory, gems or gold.
Ages have sped away on pinions fleet
But still thy treasures glitter at thy feet;
Ages may tread again thy golden sands,
They cannot tear thy riches from thy hands,
Keep them, oh Earth! to thee they all belong.
We claim them but we do not want them long;
A few short years and we must leave behind
All that we have or hope in thee to find.

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