Thy image shrined within it, lone and loved;
Make me the Flower thou lovest; let me drink
Thy rays, and give them back in bloom and beauty;
Mould me to grace, to glory, like the Statue;
Wake for my mind the Music of thine own,
And it shall grow, to that majestic tune,
A temple meet to shrine mine idol in;
Hold the frail shell, tinted by love’s pure blush,
Unto thy soul, and thou shalt hear within
Tones from its spirit-home; smile on the wave,