I saw a tiny
Under a bright blue
That had white
And forked ribs of gold.
Below him His little
Lay open to the sun.
The shadow of His
Lay upon a city.
When he stretched forth His handA lake became a dark tremble.
When he kicked up His
It became night in the mountain passes. But thou art small!
There are gods far greater than thou.
They rise and fall,
The tumbling gods of the sea.
Can thy heart heave such sighs,
Such hollow savage cries,
Such windy breath,
Such groaning death?
And can thy arm
The old,
The cold,
The changeless dreadful
Where the
Of horned
And the screaming
Gather together?
From those silent
That lie in the
Of our pearly prisons,
Canst thou hunt thy prey?
Like us canst thou
Awaiting thine hour,
And then rise like a
And crash and shatter?
There are neither trees nor
In my country,
Said the tiny God.
But there are
And
And
Covered with lovely weed.
There are little shores and safe harbours,
Caves for cool and plains for sun and wind.
Lovely is the sound of the rivers,
Lovely the flashing
Of the lovely peaks.
I am content.
But Thy kingdom is small,
Said the God of the Sea.
Thy kingdom shall fall;
I shall not let thee be.
Thou art proud!
With a
Pealing of laughter,
He rose and
The tiny God's
With the tip of his hand,
With the curl of his fingers:
And after—The tiny
Began to cry
