The Genius

They could not understand him -he was one 
Who walked on fire when others trod the clay, 
Who followed mountain glimmers far away,
Or like an Eagle soared into the sun.
They could not understand him -there were none 
Who roamed the highlands where he loved to stray, 
Though, far below, the throng would snarl and bray, 
Watching him mount where rainbow mists are spun.
And yet when at last, reviled and scorned, he died, 
His name was set in gold and Deified,
Symbol for weeping millions to adore;
But still from cloud and crag he gleamed alone, 
And still men praised him as a god unknown, 
And understood no better than before.