Classic Poem

The fortress proud, the haughty wall
With frowning gate — they shake, they fall;
Kings, kingdoms — as a dream they pass,
They are as wind-waves on the grass.

Passes the last remembrancer
To tell us that the mighty were;
In death's one trench shall Shakespeare lie,
The common night close Caesar's eye.

Believe it not. Once might has birth,
It dwells forever in the earth.
Does glory flame, there Shakespeare is;
Caesar strives yet — that wreath is his.