Iv

Well did the wise in heart rejoice To hear the summons of that Voice, And patiently begin The builder's work within, Houses not made with hands, Nor founded on the sands. And thou, Revered Mother, at whose call We come to keep thy joyous festival, And celebrate thy labours on the walls of Truth Through sevenscore years and ten of thine eternal youth-- A master builder thou, And on thy shining brow, Like Cybele, in fadeless light dost wear A diadem of turrets strong and fair.