Pictures in Rhyme/'He was a Prince of Power and Might'
'HE WAS A PRINCE OF POWER AND MIGHT'
He was a prince of power and might
But yesternight;
To-day
A senseless lump of coffined clay,
To hide away.
His life was one long holiday,
Careless of sorrows;
A ceaseless whirligig of play—
No thought for morrows.
His talents slept,
Securely hid,
'Neath social custom's ponderous lid;
And all men kept
The vast white pearls
Of truth from him,
Who held his wealth in changing curls
Of many girls,
By passion's passing whim.
Dusting his eyes
With flatteries,
His clouded vision
Saw fields Elysian
In scenes of rank debaucheries;
Until his name,
Of lofty fame,
Sank into shame.
He once was heard to say:
'Which is the God,
Jesus or Bacchus,
Over us?
Which heaven's true way—
Where the snow on the mountain shines,
Or where the valley's vines
Beckon and nod,
With countless clusters
Of purple lustres,
In serried line on lines,
Through smiling vale or over mountain snows?'
—But now he knows.
He was a prince of power and might
But yesternight;
To-day
A senseless lump of coffined clay,