Cxiv

Do you, my generation? Well, let the blocks prove mist I' the main enclosure,--church and college, if they list, Be something for a time, and everything anon, And anything awhile, as fit is off or on, Till they grow nothing, soon to reappear no less As something,--shape reshaped, till out of shapelessness Come shape again as sure! no doubt, or round or square Or polygon its front, some building will be there, Do duty in that nook o' the wall o' the world where once The Architect saw fit precisely to ensconce College or church, and bid such bulwark guard the line O' the barrier round about, humanity's confine.