Within the man-filled restaurant
Was one who saw a hill
Which gleamed with all the jewels it held
For Dream that had a will.
It was no soft and easy hill,
But brutal, hard and high;
Though in the earth, more over earth,
Of snow-edged cliffs and sky.
She knew it was not hidden far,
As night is close to dawn,
But doubtful men stood in her way
Or scuffle-trudged along.
And yet this hill was not a hill,
This splend’rous rock no rock,
But one like her, to mirror her–
An open vault in-locked.
She struck those men with piercing eyes
Of uncontested right
To gather in their characters
With just a single sight.
And some did wince, some turned about,
And some did cough out raw,
Like beaten dust against the wind
That knows that wind is law.
Yet one there was who stood alone,
And level looked her through.
He thought, “If light was ‘telligent,
I see the sun is you.”
If lightning ever struck the sun
With bolts from Jupiter,
Then you might see the ‘ploding sight
That passed ‘tween him and her.
The room was empty, but for men
Who didn’t count at all.
No floor or ceiling was there then,
And vanished every wall.
Four eyes that dig, and strike, and see,
Reflecting self in mind,
Do sift and weigh their characters,
And love the gold they find.
She said to him, “You show at last,
As I had known you would.”
He said to her, “The sun is here,
And lightning, it is good.”
Her eyes did flash and sparkle so,
So gladly hit to be,
While his did fiercely, proudly glow,
Such beauty full to see.
Then out they walked into the world—
A lightning bolt, a sun—
Where Fortune never felt so good
For wealth that it had won.