  How shall we build it curiously well, Our house to live and love in?—Shall it be Only significant to you and me, Or shall it be a palace where may dwell Those whom our spirits notice? May we tell An architect to loose his fancy free To toss up towers in soaring ecstasy With Doric dignity or temple bell? Or shall we build it with our hands, alone, Working together over wood and stone To learn an art we never knew, and strive, Patient, to raise with faith and trust and love, Fashioned so cunningly it must survive, A secret cottage in a silent grove? |
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