Classic Poem

In darkened house of common clay,
The brain, imperial, dwells alone;
None say to it or yea or nay,
Or ask its right to crown and throne.
The dull, gray substance sleeps and wakes,
And wonders why and whence it came;
With sense of self it throbs and aches;
A heaving force, a prisoned flame.
By law unwrit or sacred sign
It holds its power—a right divine.

Behold the king!—how lone his state!
But countless couriers round him stand;
They do his bidding while they wait;
Or outward haste at his command.
Viewless and soundless, up the height,
While radiant suns beneath them glow;
With wings made swift by sheer delight,
Where mightiest angels only go;
They speed their flight—what worlds unfold!
They find what kings, in dreams, behold!

What power is here? What master grand?
In darkness bound, of lowly birth;
Yet made to think, and feel, and stand,
As God's own Viceroy on the Earth.
The beasts before him cringe and creep;
The ancient mountains bow them low;
As still as death, through oceans deep,
The swift, obedient lightnings go.
Thou brain of man awake, asleep,
Still art thou King! Thy Kingdom keep.

In darkened house of common clay,
The brain, imperial, dwells alone;
None say to it or yea or nay,
Or ask its right to crown and throne.
The dull, gray substance sleeps and wakes,
And wonders why and whence it came;
With sense of self it throbs and aches;
A heaving force, a prisoned flame.
By law unwrit or sacred sign
It holds its power—a right divine.

Behold the king!—how lone his state!
But countless couriers round him stand;
They do his bidding while they wait;
Or outward haste at his command.
Viewless and soundless, up the height,
While radiant suns beneath them glow;
With wings made swift by sheer delight,
Where mightiest angels only go;
They speed their flight—what worlds unfold!
They find what kings, in dreams, behold!

What power is here? What master grand?
In darkness bound, of lowly birth;
Yet made to think, and feel, and stand,
As God's own Viceroy on the Earth.
The beasts before him cringe and creep;
The ancient mountains bow them low;
As still as death, through oceans deep,
The swift, obedient lightnings go.
Thou brain of man awake, asleep,
Still art thou King! Thy Kingdom keep.