They float before my soul, the fair designs Which I would body forth to life and power,
Like clouds that with their wavering hues and lines Portray majestic building—dome and tower,
Bright spire, that through the rainbow and the shower Points to the unchanging stars; and high arcade,
Far-sweeping to some glorious altar made For holiest rites. Meanwhile the waning hour Melts from me, and by fervent dreams overwrought I sink.
O friend!
O linked with each high thought!
Aid me, of those rich visions to detain All I may grasp; until thou seest fulfilled,
While time and strength allow, my hope to build For lowly hearts devout, but one enduring fane!
