Let each new temple, nobler than the last,
Shut thee from heaven with a dome more vast,
Till thou at length art free,
Leaving thine outgrown shell by life’s unresting sea”;
if we shall have done all this, I say, and followed God: then, when at last with white-haired Bryant each of us
“lies down to pleasant dreams,”
the Sun shall go down with a golden halo of glory; Beauty, eternal Beauty, wedded to immortal Love, shall reign forever in the heart;
“And the night shall be filled with music;
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,