A tall Colossus, bronze and gold, As if that flame-lit form were he Who once bestrode the Rhodian sea, And ruled the watery world of old: As if the lost Colossus stood Above that burning sea of wood. And she, that shapely form upheld, Held high, as if to touch the sky, What airy shape, how shapely high,-- A goddess of the seas of eld! Her hand upheld, her high right hand, As if she would forget the land; As if to gather stars, and heap The stars like torches there to light Her Hero's path across the deep To some far isle that fearful night. It was as if Colossus came, Came proudly reaching from the flame Above the sea in sheen of gold, His sea-bride leaping from his hold; The lost Colossus, and his bride In bronze perfection at his side: As if the lost Colossus came Companioned from the past, his bride With torch all faithful at his side: With star-tipped torch that reached and rolled Through cloud-built corridors of gold: His bride, austere and stern and grand,-- Bartholdi's goddess by the sea, Far lifting, lighting Liberty From prison seas to Freedom's land. XLI. The flame! the envious flame, it leapt Enraged to see such majesty, Such scorn of death; such kingly scorn. Then like some lightning-riven tree They sank down in that flame--and slept And all was hushed above that steep So still, that they might sleep and sleep; As still as when a day is born. At last! from out the embers leapt Two shafts of light above the night,-- Two wings of flame that lifting swept In steady, calm, and upward flight; Two wings of flame against the white Far-lifting, tranquil, snowy cone; Two wings of love, two wings of light, Far, far above that troubled night, As mounting, mounting to God's throne. XLII. And all night long that upward light Lit up the sea-cow's bed below: The far sea-cows still calling so It seemed as they must call all night. All night! there was no night. Nay, nay, There was no night. The night that lay Between that awful eve and day,-- That nameless night was burned away. THE RHYME OF THE GREAT RIVER. PART I. Rhyme on, rhyme on in reedy flow, O river, rhymer ever sweet! The story of thy land is meet, The stars stand listening to know. Rhyme on, O river of the earth! Gray father of the dreadful seas, Rhyme on! the world upon its knees Shall yet invoke thy wealth and worth. Rhyme on, the reed is at thy mouth, O kingly minstrel, mighty stream! Thy Crescent City, like a dream, Hangs in the heaven of my South. Rhyme on, rhyme on! these broken strings Sing sweetest in this warm south wind; I sit thy willow banks and bind A broken harp that fitful sings. I. And where is my city, sweet blossom-sown town? And what is her glory, and what has she done? By the Mexican seas in the path of the sun Sit you down: in the crescent of seas sit you down.