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Poem by Paul Hamilton Hayne
Fate, or God?
BEYOND the record of all eldest things, Beyond the rule and regions of past time, From out Antiquity's hoary-headed rime, Looms the dread phantom of a King of kings: Round His vast brows the glittering circlet clings Of a thrice royal crown; behind Him climb, O'er Atlantean limbs and breast sublime The sombre splendors of mysterious wings; Deep calms of measureless power, in awful state, Gird and uphold Him; a miraculous rod, To heal or smite, arms His infallible hands: Known in all ages, worshipped in all lands, Doubt names this half-embodied mystery--Fate, While Faith, with lowliest reverence, whispers--God!
Paul Hamilton Hayne
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