’Neath the gardens of the Emperors
Unnoticed you may pass
A little altar nestling
In the poppies and the grass.
No gorgeous columns flank it,
Where priest or Vestal trod--
Only the carven words that sing--
“To the Unknown God.”
The haughty praetor scanned it
With humble, thoughtful air--
The base-born slave espied it
With sullen, frightened stare:
The Roman matron touched it,
And went upon her way--
The gladiator saw it,
And paused awhile to pray.
Even the passing Cæsar
Bowed the imperial head,
With faltering eyes that swept the skies
In reverent fear and dread.
The arching heavens domed it
With royal lapis blue--
The soft Campania’s whisper
Brought the sunshine and the dew:
The candles of the firmament
Bent down their brightest rays,
Where, midst their Pagan Pantheon
A People paused to gaze.