Inviolable

WHEN I hear men discoursing idle things,Who "beauty and corruption" would unite—As who should say: "Now call we darkness bright!"My wondering soul more passionately clingsTo every image, every strain that singsOf beauty—still, ah, still the world's delight!—More valuing that bloom which knows not blight,To which no touch of Time defacement brings.

From rocky Chios, from sweet Avon's side,From Athens, Sicily—our earth to bless—From each dear Land where Joy hath dwelt with Truth,It comes adown Time's inexhausted tideIn myriad form, the ancient Loveliness,Wearing its glory of immortal youth!