Classic Poem

No act in Beauty's service done,
With homage of the heart and brain
For all fair things beneath the sun,
Was ever done in vain.

The humblest deed, the lightest word,
Accordant to divine behest,
In Heaven's high temple seen and heard,
Is sanctified and blest.

Not for mechanic use alone,—
The arid toil of weary days,—
Is meant the consecrated stone
That proudly here we raise.

Broad based on truth we rear this fane,
The eternal heart, the eternal mind,
Whereby love, hope, and wisdom reign,
And peace for all mankind.

Here Justice, with her even scale
And blinded orbs, shall, sacred, stand,
With iron force and mercy frail,
Attent, on either hand.

Here, glorious in the blaze of day,
Shall Order's radiant fountain rise,
O'er which the blissful lights that play
Are lights of Paradise.

Here Power supreme, the people's will,
More potent than the despot's nod,
Shall, throned in majesty, fulfil
The awful will of God.

And long as through morn's silver haze
Our golden isle of beauty gleams,
Or, softly fair in sunset rays,
Fades to a land of dreams;

And long as Ocean's organ voice
The music of the surge shall pour
In waves of rapture that rejoice
To clasp our emerald shore;

So long this symbol shall endure,—
In honor reared and humble awe,—
And show our favor'd realm secure
In liberty and law.