Читать книгу Poems - Julia C. R. Dorr - Страница 22

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No grand Cathedral’s vaulted space Where, through the “dim, religious light,” Gleam pictured saint and cross and crown, We consecrate with song to-night;

No stately temple lifting high Its dome against the starlit skies, Where lofty arch and glittering spire Like miracles of beauty rise.

Yet here beneath this humbler roof With reverent hearts and lips we come; Hail, music! Song and Beauty, hail! Henceforth be these poor walls your home.

Here speak to hearts that long have yearned Your presence and your spells to know; Here touch the lips athirst to drink Where your perennial fountains flow.

Here, where our glorious mountain-peaks Sublimely pierce the ether blue, Lift ye our souls, and bid them rise In aspirations grand and true!

O Music, Art, and Science, hail! We greet you now with glad acclaims; Ye bay-crowned ones! the listening air Waits to re-echo with your names;

Waits for your voices ringing clear Above this weary, work-day world; Waits till ye bid fair Truth arise, While Error from her throne is hurled!