Along those spacious alcoves, lo! there stands
The garnered wisdom of a hundred lands,
Reaped in a myriad harvests. Reverent hands

Have marshaled side by side in long array
The cherished oracles of yesterday,
This hour's new-minted dogma, and the stray

Leaves, — spirit-wafted, mystic, Sibylline —
Dim-graven with a character divine,
To-morrow's Word, the apocalyptic sign.

Behold what wonder here! before our eyes
The hoarded treasure of man's spirit lies,
And wastes not with our using. Here arise.

The potent shapes of all the storied eld,
Strong in immortal youth. Herein are held
The mysteries wherewith Earth's sons compelled

Their soul to courage, and their mind to see
Love brooding o'er this chaos. Happy he
Who fronts the future's portal with this key!