Waiting the snowy hand
That could awaken them.
Ah me, I thought, how many, many times
Genius thus slumbers in a human soul,
Waiting, as Lazarus waited, for a voice
To bid him "Rise and walk."
SONNET
FROM THE SPANISH OF DON FRANCISCO DE QUEVEDO
I saw the ramparts of my native land,
One time so strong, now dropping in decay,