The secret closely kept, though hundreds share it; The ground is hollow 'neath the tyrants' feet; Their days of rule are number'd, and ere long

THE STATUES AND THE TEAR All night a fountain pleads, Telling her beads, Her tinkling beads monotonous 'neath the moon; And where she springs atween, Two statues lean Two Kings, their marble beards with moonlight strewn.

Nil? I watch our planet's god decline Behind the tomb-girt Appian Way; The old, imperial Palatine Grows purple 'neath the sun's last ray; Shades of the Caesars, if ye may, The mystery of death portray!

Father of all, 'tis thine to give, Not what our erring pray'r demands; With joy thy blessings we receive, And bow submissive 'neath thy hand.