Classic Poem

In silence, like a ridge of snows
Slow reared in lands for ever calm,
On Sion's brow the Temple rose;
In stillness grew as grows the palm.

Far off, on ridges vapour-draped,
Was hewn and carved each destined stone:
Far off, the axe the cedars shaped
Upon their native Lebanon.

So rose that Temple, holier far,
Incarnate Godhead's sacred Shrine:
Round her there swelled no din of war;
The peace that girt her was divine.

The deep foundations of that Fane
Were laid, ere lived the hills and seas,
In many a dread, unquarried vein
Of God's wide Will and fixed Decrees.

High Queen of Peace: her God possessed,
Her heart could feel no earthly want:
His kingdom, 'stablished in her breast,
Triumphant was, not militant:

And day by day more amply played
His love about its raptured thrall,
Like some eternal sunset stayed
On cliff rich-veined, or mountain wall.