Classic Poem

My mountains, God has company in heaven—
Crowned saints who sing to him the sun-long day.
He has no need of speech with you—with you,
Dust of his foot-stool! No, but I have need.
Oh, speak to me, for you are mine as well—
Drift of my soul. I built you long ago;
I reared your granite masonry to make
My house of peace, and spread your flowered carpets,
And set your blue-tiled roof, and in your courts
Made musical fountains play. Ah, give me now
Shelter and sustenance and liberty,
That I may mount your sky-assailing towers
And hear the winds communing, and give heed
To the large march of stars, and enter in
The spirit-crowded courts of solitude.