Page:Pictures In Rhyme.djvu/43

 world, the fair world, with her bosoms of snow, Her life-pulses bounding in turbulent flow, Lies prone in the scale, Exposed and for sale; Save for forests of hair From her temples down-curled, Exposed to a critical, insolent stare. Who will buy? Who will bid? Who will weigh up the world?

Who will buy? Who will bid? Who will weigh up the world? —'Mid the blare of curved trumpets, with banners unfurled, A Genius takes form From the breath of the storm— Tall and gaunt, Scarred of front;