Ye crumbling spires, ye antique towers,—
What, if ye were decayed!
What, if your fragments fell in showers
On Henry’s holy shade!
And what, if o’er your cloister walls
Vague pencilled ornamental scrawls
Afforded mute display;
Should Vandals, who all things renew,
Be down upon thy records too,
And sweep them clean away!