Foreword
The Hall of Mirrors
I
If you could speak what tales your tongues could tell,
You voiceless mirrors of the storied past!
Do you remember when the curtain fell
On him who learned he was not God at last?
II
Do you still see the shadows of the great?
On powdered wigs and velvets, silks and lace;
Or dream at night a feted queen, in state,
Accepts men’s homage with a haughty face?
III
A thousand names come tumbling to the mind.
Of dead who gazed upon themselves through you.
And went their way, each one his end to find
In paths that glory or red terror knew.
IV
Voltaire and Rousseau and Ben Franklin here,
You’ve seen hobnobbing with the highly-born;
Seen Genius smile, while, with a hint of fear,
It gave to Birth not homage but its scorn.
V
Do you remember that Teutonic jaw
Of him who crowned an emperor, that you
Might know that Bismarck was above all law
And free to do what victor vandals do?
VI
Oh, Hall of Visions, now shall come anon
A grander sight than you have ever seen;
You’ve mirrored kings, but you shall look upon
The mighty men whose edicts freedom mean
VII
To races and to peoples sore oppressed;
The men who mould the future for a race
That breathes a wind that’s blowing from the West—
And you’ll forget the Bourbon’s evil face!
—EDWARD S. VAN ZILE.
N. Y. Eve. Sun., Nov. 25