Which lift the gazer’s spirit up on high,
As soars the eagle to the sun-lit sky!
Thou art a thing to worship! and I throw
My soaring spirit conquered at thy feet,—
But not to beauty, tho’ ’tis unsurpassed,
But to the wealth of intellect ’tis cast;
Deeming the earth beneath the proudest seat,
Where I would sit, and on perfection gaze,
Sunning my soul beneath thine eyes’ soft rays!