1 Oh, little did the Wolf-Child care— When first he planned his home, What city should arise and bear The weight and state of Rome. 2 A shiftless, westward-wandering tramp, Checked by the Tiber flood, He reared a wall around his camp Of uninspired mud. 3 But when his brother leaped the Wall And mocked its height and make, He guessed the future of it all And slew him for its sake. 4 Swift was the blow—swift as the thought Which showed him in that hour How unbelief may bring to naught The early steps of Power. 5 Forseeing Time’s imperilled hopes Of Glory, Grace, and Love— All singers, Cæsars, artists, Popes— Would fail if Remus throve, 6 He sent his brother to the Gods, And, when the fit was o’er, Went on collecting turves and clods To build the Wall once more!
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