I stand. The waves beneath me run
All stain'd and yellow, dark and dun,
And deep as death's sweet mystery,—
A thousand Tibers roll'd in one.
I count on other years. I draw
The curtain from the scenes to be.
I see another Rome. I see
A Cæsar tower in the land,
And take her in his iron hand.
I see a throne, a king, a crown,