Classic Poem

Fair Sibyl, sitting in thy " House of Clouds, "
Shrined, like some solitary star, above
The dull, cold shadow that our earth enshrouds,
How oft my spirit looks to thee in love!
To thy " Lost Bower " how oft in dreams returning,
I see thee standing in the sylvan room, —
See the red sun-light in the rose-cups burning,
And the sweet blue-bells nodding through the gloom:
Again I hear thy grand and solemn dirges
To the dim " Gods of Hellas, " like the breeze
O'er lone savannas sighing, or the surges
That wash the sands of solitary seas;
Then, in calm waves of glory, swells the strain
" Christ from the dead hath risen and shall, reign! "