POEMS OF JAMES RYDER RANDALL
ARCHITECTURE
Gone—gone the spires, and pinnacles, and fanes,
I built upon the mist-isles of the past,
Nought but a hollow Babylon remains
Of all the bright, adorable, and vast;
Still I make miraculous amends
By hewing Meccas from your hearts, my friends!
Welcome! ye passionate rills that cleave my brain,
Blest with ebullient melodies of morn—
While ’mid the plumed battalia of the cane
Throb the red sun-flags by encrimsoned corn!
Here, where the forest with the field contends,
I’ll sculpture immortalities, my friends!
Imperial Heart! that blossomed into mine
Hot with eleusia of electric youth—
Friend of my boyhood! a majestic shrine
I chisel from that burning heart of truth.
Where the parched gulls to velvet waves descend,
Be thou, my Monolith of Faith, my friend!
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