Wanderer

Ivy hath clad around Thy slender form divine. How do ye upward strive From out the wreck, Twin columns! And thou, the solitary sister there, How do ye, With sombre moss upon your sacred heads, Gaze in majestic mourning down Upon these scattered fragments There at your feet, Your kith and kin! Where lie the shadows of the bramble bush, Concealed by wrack and earth, And the long grass wavers above. Nature dost then so hold in price Thy masterpiece’s masterpiece? Dost thou, regardless, shatter thus Thy sanctuary? Dost sow the thistles therein?