In every ray, which leads through arch and aisle
A path of dreamy lustre, wandering back
To other years!—and the rich fretted roof,
And the wrought coronals of summer leaves,
Ivy and vine, and many a sculptured rose—
The tenderest image of mortality—
Binding the slender columns, whose light shafts
Cluster like stems in corn-sheaves;—all these things
Tell of a race that nobly, fearlessly,
On their heart’s worship pour’d a wealth of love!