In dreams he saw that stately pile appear
In matchless beauty of proportion clear
On rocky eminence, the city ’neath its feet
And winding river, and the vision sweet
Which his soul cherished was not all in vain.
Behold the vast Cathedral with its lofty fane!
For which he toiled and prayed, but Heaven decreed
He should not see fruition of the seed.
And now within those hallowed walls at rest
He lies with meek hands folded o’er his breast
Beneath the altar fair he is assigned
A fitting resting place for his great mind.
Though he be dead, his works will follow him
And stones shall speak in that great minster dim,
Of strength and majesty so truly wrought—
A temple beautiful for heavenly thought;
Each arch in its magnificence alone
Reveals a poem writ with pen of stone.
Perchance when the sweet sound of vesper bell
And trembling notes of the grand organ swell,
Reverberating, or with cadence soft and clear,
His listening spirit may be hovering near.
When holy chant floats down that stately aisle
And angel voice of choristers beguile
The soul in rapturous awe from mundane things
Will soar aloft on Adoration’s wings!
And may each human pillar moulded be
By master minds of eloquence and oratory;
And down the centuries the founder’s name shall shine
With his successors in God’s House Divine,
While “Glorio in Excelsis Deo” rise
In grandest anthem to the lofty skies.
AT EVENTIDE.
With trembling limbs and side by side
Two old folks walk at eventide,
Two dear old wrinkled faces bow,
Two pairs of feet are weary now,
At eventide.
Hush! Now they reach the old house door,
Where, more than fifty years before,
The bride came on her wedding morn,
And true love waited for his dawn,
Ere eventide.
They gaze with tender age-dimmed eyes
Around the hearth while memories
Surge backward down the vanished years,
Fraught with their sweetness, blent with tears,
This eventide.
They talk of loved ones long since gone,
And one whom they in silence mourn,
The erring one, and thus they stay
With bended heads for him to pray,
At eventide.
And he, with sudden, deep remorse
Resolves to change his evil course,
And plead forgiveness ere too late,
So softly opes the old green gate,
One eventide.
The cottage door is open wide,
He sweeps a vagrant tear aside,
Sees empty dear familiar chairs,
Then gently mounts the oaken stairs
At eventide.
Ah! Yes! it is their eventide,
For see! He finds them side by side,
Wrapped in magnificent repose,
Beyond the golden light that glows
At eventide.