Great soul! oh, how like bubbles in the wave,
Are the Sierras in cerulean flight,
To thy true grandeur, letting nought enslave!
II
O thou art Character—art only those
Who formed the good and great by thought, or deed.
All others are not worth a moment's heed,—
Mere prairie dogs, who raise gold hills in rows—
When gazing at thy glory; for that grows