Page:Poems - Tennyson (1843) - Volume 1 of 2.djvu/155

 And there the Ionian father of the rest; A million wrinkles carved his skin; A hundred winters snow'd upon his breast, From cheek and throat and chin.

Above, the fair hall-ceiling stately-set Many an arch high up did lift, And angels rising and descending met With interchange of gift.

Below was all mosaic choicely plann'd With cycles of the human tale Of this wide world, the times of every land So wrought they will not fail.

The people here, a beast of burden slow, Toil'd onward, prick'd with goads and stings; Here play'd, a tiger, rolling to and fro The heads and crowns of kings;