o 

They float before my soul, the fair designs 
Which I would body forth to life and power, 
Like clouds that with their wavering hues and lines 
Portray majestic building--dome and tower, 
Bright spire, that through the rainbow and the shower 
Points to the unchanging stars; and high arcade, 
Far-sweeping to some glorious altar made 
For holiest rites. 
 Meanwhile the waning hour 
Melts from me, and by fervent dreams overwrought 
I sink. O friend! O linked with each high thought! 
Aid me, of those rich visions to detain 
All I may grasp; until thou seest fulfilled, 
While time and strength allow, my hope to build 
For lowly hearts devout, but one enduring fane! 




o