Imperial—and all thine honors sing.
Sons of chiefs long vanquished played and danced
Before thy face; again the fathers prayed,
Their plea ascending, swift as thought, to Him
Who guided Abram ’mongst Judean hills.
What heart-breaks knowest thou of sire and son?
Of lover and beloved, of hate and hope?
Deepest depths and uplift to the heights?
I hear the music of thy hidden heart,
Sorrow’s song, in-wrought with joy that’s pure,