Classic Poem

Alone and sad I sat me down
To rest on Rousseau's narrow isle
Below Geneva. Mile on mile,
And set with many a shining town,
Tow'rd Dent du Midi danced the wave
Beneath the moon. Winds went and came
And fanned the stars into a flame.
I heard the far lake, dark and deep,
Rise up and talk as in its sleep;
I heard the laughing waters lave
And lap against the further shore,
An idle oar, and nothing more
Save that the isle had voice, and save
That 'round about its base of stone
There plashed and flashed the foamy Rhone.

A stately man, as black as tan,
Kept up a stern and broken round
Among the strangers on the ground.
I named that awful African
A second Hannibal.
I gat
My elbows on the table; sat
With chin in upturned palm to scan
His face, and contemplate the scene.
The moon rode by, a crowned queen.
I was alone. Lo! not a man
To speak my mother tongue. Ah me!
How more than all alone can be
A man in crowds! Across the isle
My Hannibal strode on. The while
Diminished Rousseau sat his throne
Of books, unnoticed and unknown.

This strange, strong man, with face austere,
At last drew near. He bowed; he spake
In unknown tongues. I could but shake
My head. Then half achill with fear,
Arose, and sought another place.
Again I mused. The kings of thought
Came by, and on that storied spot
I lifted up a tearful face.
The star-set Alps they sang a tune
Unheard by any soul save mine.
Mont Blanc, as lone and as divine
And white, seemed mated to the moon.
The past was mine; strong-voiced and vast — —
Stern Calvin, strange Voltaire, and Tell,
And two whose names are known too well
To name, in grand procession passed.

And yet again came Hannibal;
King-like he came, and drawing near,
I saw his brow was now severe
And resolute.
In tongue unknown
Again he spake. I was alone,
Was all unarmed; was worn and sad;
But now, at last, my spirit had
Its old assertion.
I arose,
As startled from a dull repose;
With gathered strength I raised a hand
And cried, " I do not understand. "

His black face brightened as I spake;
He bowed; he wagged his woolly head;
He showed his shining teeth, and said,
" Sah, if you please, dose tables heah
Am consecrate to lager beer;
And, sah, what will you have to take? "

Nott hat I loved that colored cuss —
Nay! he had awed me all too much —
But I sprang forth, and with a clutch
I grasped his hand, and holding thus,
Cried, " Bring my country's drink for two! "
For oh! that speech of Saxon sound
To me was as a fountain found
In wastes, and thrilled me through and through.

On Rousseau's isle, in Rousseau's shade,
Two pink and spicy drinks were made,
In classic shades, on classic ground,
We stirred two cocktails round and round.