Classic Poem

In the dim spaces of a dream, you see —
Somewhere, perhaps, or else not anywhere,
(Remember in a dream what things may be) —
I met a stranger with the whitest hair.

From his wide, wandering beard the snow-flakes whirl'd —
(His face when young, no doubt, was much admired:)
His name was Atlas, and he held the world;
I held a child — and both of us were tired.

" A handsome boy, " he courteously said;
" He pleases my old fancy. What fine eyes! "
" Yes, father, but he wearies me. My head
Is aching, too, and — listen how he cries! "

" If you would let me take him " — — and he spread
All his fair laces and deep velvets wide;
Then did them from my smile, and, in their stead,
Sweet jewels and vague sums of gold he tried.

Then ships, all heavy with the scents and sounds
Of many a sea, the stains of many a sun;
Then palaces, with empires for their grounds,
Were slowly offer'd to me, one by one.

" Then take the world! It will amuse you. So,
Watch while I move its wires. " An instant, then,
He laugh'd. " Look, child, at this quick puppet-show: "
I saw a rich land dusk with marching men.

" This puppet, with the smile inscrutable,
You call The Emperor: these, Statesmen; these —
No matter; this, who just now plays the fool,
Is " — — " Not our " — — " It is, madam, if you please! "

" Hush! — — " " Take the world and move them as you will! —
Give me the boy. "
— — Then, shivering with affright,
I held the close cheek's dimples closer still,
And bade the old Peddler — for I woke — good-night!