Here all is sunny, and when the truant
gull
Sims the green level of the lawn, hi
wing
Dispetals roses; here all house is
framed
Of kneaded brick and the plumed mountain
pine,
Such clay as artists fashion and such
wood
As the tree-climbing urchin breaks.
But there
Eternal granite hewn from the living
isle
And dowelled with brute iron, rears a
tower
That from its wet foundation to its
crown.
Of glittering glass, stands, in the sweep
of winds,
Immovable, immortal, eminent.