To Edmund Clarence Stedman on his seventieth birthday, October 8,1903
Who wears this crown-greater than kings may wear-
Is monarch of a kingdom, once possessed,
Nor foe nor fate from him may ever wrest!
Illimitable as space is, and as fair
As its illumined depths, he gathers there
All things, obedient to his high behest.
His is the sea, the valley’s verdant breast,
And his the mountain-summit, lost in air.
Thought’s infinite range to him no barrier bars;
His soul no boundary knows of time or space;
Bird, beast, flower, tree, to him in love belong;
Child of the earth, yet kindred to the stars,
He walks in dreams with angels face to face,
And God Himself speaks in his voice of song.
