My temple hath yon city roofs for floor; For roof, the azure; and, to stay the roof, A thousand alabastrine columns soar In coiling smoke that, silent, steals aloof! My temple builds itself at windless prime,— At dawn,—or in the rosy eventime; Ere garish midday, roof and pillar melt,— And they are gone,—the Blest, who there have knelt! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...AN EPITAPH ON M.H. by CHARLES COTTON ARNOLD [VON] WINKELRIED by JAMES MONTGOMERY SAINT PAUL: 1 by FREDERICK WILLIAM HENRY MYERS ODES: BOOK 1: ODE 9. TO CURIO by MARK AKENSIDE PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 10. AL-JABBAR by EDWIN ARNOLD THE VANISHED MOUNTAINS by HARRY RANDOLPH BLYTHE TAKE YOUR CHOICE: AS EDGAR LEE MASTERS WOULD HANDLE IT. HILDA HYDE by BERTON BRALEY |