No vision of another Rome than this?
Along the antique border of her dress
I sought in vain to see the symbol wrought
That she has steadfast borne since first its touch
Did her, the holy one, e’er consecrate
The tender mother of the desolate,
Consoler of poor hearts o’erburdened much,
Pure spouse of Him who is Eternal Life,
Inheritor of beauty ever new
Yet ever ancient, ’missioned to subdue