Classic Poem

There is a ruin that can make me weep,
Nor only that, but inly tremble too;
Not death itself can move an awe so deep
As that which lately thrilled my spirit through.
To see the temple sinking to decay
Wherein a soul was beauteously shrined,
Could hardly touch to pitying tears to-day,
For I have seen the ruin of a mind!
Yet now, with harmony of order lost,
Its full proportions overawe the eye;
The shattered arch reveals the grandeur most,
Like the Colossus of the Flavii;
And God be thanked that hope, like some green thing,
Out of the ruin's clefts doth skyward spring!