BE this the chosen site; the virgin sod, Moistened from age to age by dewy eve, Shall disappear, and grateful earth receive The corner-stone from hands that build to God. Yon reverend hawthorns, hardened to the rod Of winter storms, yet budding cheerfully; Those forest oaks of Druid memory, Shall long survive, to shelter the Abode Of genuine Faith. Where, haply, 'mid this band Of daisies, shepherds sate of yore and wove May-garlands, there let the holy altar stand For kneeling adoration; -- while -- above, Broods, visibly portrayed, the mystic Dove, That shall protect from blasphemy the Land. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE MEMORY OF INEZ MILHOLLAND by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON FIRST FRUIT by ISAAC ROSENBERG A PATCH OF OLD SNOW by ROBERT FROST TO MY FATHER by WILLIAM SYDNEY GRAHAM A PRAYER FOR INDIFFERENCE by FRANCES (FANNY) MACARTNEY GREVILLE THE SOULS OF THE SLAIN by THOMAS HARDY |