I SEE her sitting calm amid the dash
Of waves which ever lap her sunlit walls,
'Mid differing races and with varying calls
To honor, profit, safety, never rash,
But standing graceful as a mountain ash
Which bends before the blast, but never falls.
So did she stand amid the ceaseless broils
Of Goth and Saracen, hearing the crash
Of war, in calm, gaining from east and west
Not gold alone, but all the treasury
Of art, and moulding to one lovely whole
The arch, the pillar, and the arabesque,
Roman, Greek, Arab, breathing with one soul
In the sweet chords of tunal unity.