Romulus and Remus

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. 

A shiftless, westward-wandering tramp,
  Checked by the Tiber flood,
 He reared a wall around his camp
  Of uninspired mud. 

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. 

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. 

Forseeing Time’s imperilled hopes
  Of Glory, Grace, and Love—
All singers, Cæsars, artists, Popes—
   Would fail if Remus throve, 

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!