  O MASTER-BUILDER, blustering as you go About your giant work, transforming all The empty woods into a glittering hall, And making lilac lanes and footpaths grow As hard as iron under stubborn snow, Though every fence stand forth a marble wall, And windy hollows drift to arches tall, There comes a might that shall your might o’erthrow. Build high your white and dazzling palaces, Strengthen your bridges, fortify your towers, Storm with a loud and a portentous lip; And April with a fragmentary breeze, And half a score of gentle, golden hours, Shall leave no trace of your stern workmanship. |
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