The purple stretches of the evening sky
Lean to the fair white city waiting here,
Flecking with gold the marble's lifted tier,
Down the blue marsh where crows to Southward fly.
Flanked by dim ramparts, where the tide dreams by,
High from the city's heart, a lifted spear,
In its straight splendour makes the heavens seem near,
Symbol of man-made force that shall not die.
To the tall crest we gaze in self-command,
Assured the world's our own and we may dare
To raise our Babel thro’ forbidden aisles
And hold the skirt of knowledge in our hand,
Great in our moment, spurn the world's despair;
While Heaven looks down through calm unmeasured miles.