(Written in the Stone Gallery of St Paul's.)

The drowsing city sparkles in the heat,
And murmur in mine ears unceasingly
The surging tides of that vast human sea—
The billows of life that break with muffled beat
And vibrate through this high and lone retreat;
While over all, serene, and fair, and free,
Thy dome is reared in naked majesty
Grey, old St Paul's … In thee the Ages meet,
Slumbering amidst the trophies of their strife.
And in their dreams thou hearest, while the cries
Of triumph and despair ascend from Life,
The murmurings of immortality—
Thou Sentinel of Hope that doth despise
What was and is not, waiting what shall be!