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e grand white lines Of thy snow-statue trembled and withdrew,-- The head, erect as Jove's, being palsied first, The eyelids flattened, the full brow turned blank, The right-hand, raised but now as if it cursed, Dropt, a mere snowball, (till the people sank Their voices, though a louder laughter burst From the royal window)--thou couldst proudly thank God and the prince for promise and presage, And laugh the laugh back, I think verily, Thine eyes being purged by tears of righteous rage To read a wrong into a prophecy, And measure a true great man's heritage Against a mere great-duke's posterity. I think thy soul said then, "I do not need A princedom and its quarries, after all; For if I write, paint, carve a word, indeed, On book or board or dust, on floor or wall, The same is kept of God who taketh heed That not a letter of the meaning fall Or ere it touch and teach His world's deep heart, Outlasting, therefore, all your lordships, sir! So keep your stone, beseech you, for your part, To cover up your grave-place and refer The proper titles; _I_ live by my art. The thought I threw into this snow shall stir This gazing people when their gaze is done; And the tradition of your act and mine, When all the snow is melted in the sun, Shall gather up, for unborn men, a sign Of what is the true princedom,--ay, and none Shall laugh that day, except the drunk with wine." Amen, great Angelo! the day's at hand. If many laugh not on it, shall we weep? Much more we must not, let us understand. Through rhymers sonneteering in their sleep And archaists mumbling dry bones up the land And sketchers lauding ruined towns a-heap,-- Through all that drowsy hum of voices smooth, The hopeful bird mounts carolling from brake, The hopeful child, with leaps to catch his growth, Sings open-eyed for liberty's sweet sake: And I, a singer also from my youth, Prefer to sing with these who are awake, With birds, with babes, with men who will not fear The baptism of the holy morning dew, (And many of such wakers now are here, Complete in their anointed manhood, who Will greatly dare and greatlier persevere,) Than join those old thin voices with my new, And sigh for Italy with some safe sigh Cooped up in music 'twixt an oh and ah,-- Nay, hand in hand with that young child, will I Go
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