And dies undispossess'd:
Whilst all the air is quick with noise of birds
Where once the chant went up;
Now musical with a song more sweet than words.

Sky-roof'd and bare and deep in dewy sod,
Still 'tis the house of God!
Beauty by desolation unsubdued:--
And all the past is here,
Thronging with thought this holy solitude.

I see the taper-stars, the altars gay;
And those who crouch and pray;
The white-robed crowd in close monastic stole,
Who hither fled the world
To find the world again within the soul.

Yet here the pang of Love's defeat, the pride
Of life unsatisfied,
Might win repose or anodyne; here the weak,
Armour'd against themselves,
Exchange true guiding for obedience meek.

Through day, through night, here, in the fragrant air,
Their hours are struck by prayer;
Freed from the bonds of freedom, the distress
Of choice, on life's storm-sea
They gaze unharm'd, and know their happiness.

Till o'er this rock of refuge, deem'd secure,