(From Bagley, at 8 a.m.)

The flood is round thee, but thy towers as yet
Are safe, and clear as by a summer's sea
Pierce the calm morning mist, serene and free,
To point in silence heavenward. There are met
Thy foster-children; — there in order set
Their nursing fathers, sworn to Heaven and thee
(An oath renew'd this hour on bended knee,)
Ne'er to betray their Mother nor forget —
Lo! on the top of each aerial spire
What seems a star by day, so high and bright,
It quivers from afar in golden light
But 'tis a form of earth, though touch'd with fire
Celestial, rais'd in other days to tell
How, when they tired of prayer, Apostles fell.
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