In that delicious dawn
Here to her lasting home was Wisdom drawn,
Here her island-shrine was wrought,55
Whence evermore, with armèd Night contending,—
In act, in labouring thought
One brilliance,—we our toil with hers unending
Might mingle; with her calm advance,
The conquests of her widening reign,60
Her heavenward aims and ceaseless operance,
We too might drink the hope and reap the gain;