The temple, while o’er its work would stand
“The tree in its living verdure!—Who
Could compass the thought?—The bird that flew
Hitherward, dropping a seed that grew,
“Did more to shiver this ancient wall
Than earthquake,—war,—simoon,—or all
The centuries, in their lapse and fall!
“Then I knelt by the riven granite there,
And my soul shook off its weight of care,
As my voice rose clear on the tropic air: