In clearer depths the golden sunsets glow,
On purer wave the lamps of midnight gleam,
That silver o'er the unpolluted stream.
Along the shores what stately temples rise,
What spires, what turrets print the shadowed skies!
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Our smiling mother sees her broad domain
Spread its tall roofs along the western plain;
Those blazoned windows' blushing glories tell
Of grateful hearts that loved her long and well,
Yon gilded dome that glitters in the sun
Was Dives' gift, - alas, his only one!
These buttressed walls enshrine a banker's name,
That hallowed chapel hides a miser's shame;
Their wealth they left, their memory cannot fade.
Though age shall crumble every stone they laid.
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The Stoics and St. Paul.
