Ancient pile, which sends from the past a creeping Shadow down to fields in the sunlight sleeping, Bearing stores of olive and grape for reaping; While time is leaping. Temple, where Greek wealth was once expended, Where the works of art and worship blended, Turned to priceless fragments feebly mended; Time has so tended. Out of this the heritage, ours forever, The bond time has not been allowed to sever; Thread of culture, which though it change, can never Vanish forever. |