Hermetically sealed, each in its shrine,

A statue in this temple of oblivion!

Millions of millions thus, from age to age,

With simplest skill, and toil unwearyable.

No moment and no movement unimproved,

Laid line on line, on terrace terrace spread,

To swell the heightening, brightening gradual mound,

By marvellous structure climbing tow'rds the day.

Each wrought alone, yet altogether wrought,

Unconscious, not unworthy, instruments,