DEDICATION TO J. L. B. 
 
THE vault of purple that I strove 
To pierce, and find unchanging love, 
Or some vast countenance above 
 
All glory of the soul of man, 
Baffled my blind aspiring gaze 
With sunlight’s melancholy rays, 
And closed with iron hand the ways 
That sunder space, divide the days with fiery fan. 
 
Thine was the forehead mild and grave 
That shown throughout the azure nave 
Where Monte Rosa’s silence gave 
 
The starry organ’s measured sound. 
Where for an altar stood the bare 
Mass of Mont Cervin, towering there 
And angels dwelt upon the stair, 
And all the mountains were aware that stood 
 
around. 
 
v