Classic Poem

City at sea, thou art surely an ark,
Sea-blown and a-wreck in the rain and dark,
Where the white sea-caps are so toss'd and curl'd.
Thy sins they were many — and behold the flood!
And here and about us are beasts in stud.
Creatures and beasts that creep and go,
Enough, ay, and wicked enough I know,
To populate, or devour, a world.

O wrinkled old lion, looking down
With brazen frown upon mine and me,
From tower a-top of your watery town,
Old king of the desert, once king of the sea:
List! here is a lesson for thee to-day.
Proud and immovable monarch, I say,
Lo! here is a lesson to-day for thee,
Of the things that were and the things to be.

Dank palaces held by the populous sea
For the good dead men, all cover'd with shell, —
We will pay them a visit some day; and we,
We may come to love their old palaces well.
Bah! toppled old columns all trumbled across,
Toss'd in the waters that lift and fall,
Waving in waves long masses of moss,
Toppled old columns, — and that will be all.

I know you, lion of gray Saint Mark;
You flutter'd all seas beneath your wing.
Now, over the deep, and up in the dark,
High over the girdles of bright gaslight,
With wings in the air as if for flight,
And crouching as if about to spring
From top of your granite of Africa, —
Say, what shall be said of you some day?

What shall be said, O grim Saint Mark,
Savage old beast so cross'd and churl'd,
By the after-men from the under-world?
What shall be said as they search along
And sail these seas for some sign or spark
Of the old dead fires of the dear old days,
When men and story have gone their ways,
Or even your city and name from song?

Why, sullen old monarch of still'd Saint Mark,
Strange men of my West, wise mouth'd and strong,
Will come some day and, gazing long
And mute with wonder, will say of thee:
" This is the Saint! High over the dark,
Foot on the Bible and great teeth bare,
Tail whipp'd back and teeth in the air —
Lo! this is the Saint, and none but he! "