I made a statue of myself some ten yards high,
More beautiful and proud than all I’d ever done.
His eyes were so aware he seemed to gather in the universe;
His mouth was ready for laughter
And his hands were calm, yet lifting,
As if to grasp a rare and precious love.
His body was strong and lithe and light, and all his own.

Men came and stared and were astonished,
Praised me, came up to shake my hand,
Then looked again, saw the resemblance,
And laughed their little laughs, and jeered,
And went away angry and resentful.

Me and my statue, we stand here
High on this mountain alone,
In sun and snow, in wind and rain,
Glad and triumphing, supreme.

Now a wondering brave girl comes,
And a young man with a hard face,
And they climb, and rise and rise and rise.
As they stop and look at us two
The young man’s face softens,
The girl’s face becomes fierce,
And the boy says, “That’s not just you,
That’s me, too.”
“And me!” exults the girl.
I nod a yes and look at them,
And gather in their greatness.

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