Classic Poem

Low at my feet is stretched the lordly vale;
Across my realm the high wild stars are led;
My garment is the light, the darkness dread;
I wrap me round with rain and snow and hail.
Round me and round the eagles nest and sail;
Between my knees the thunders make their bed;
I lap the storm-winds, and their young are bred,
Their young that play, and chafe my rocky mail.
Who cometh up to me, he shall have power,
The prophet's power, the old law-giver's might;
Ay, he shall have the tablet in his hand.
He shall not fail, but in the evil hour
And good, uplifted, clothed upon with light,
His neck unbowed, as I stand shall he stand.