Man, Earth's poor shadow! talks of Earth's decay
But hath it nothing of eternal kin?
No majesty that shall not pa** away?
No soul of greatness springing up within?
Thought marks without hoar shadows of sublime
Pictures of power, which if not doomed to win
Eternity, stand laughing at old Time
For ages: in the grand ancestral line
Of things eternal, mounting to divine
I read Magnificence where ages pay
Worship like conquered foes to the Apennine
Because they could not conquer. There sits Day
Too high for Night to come at--mountains shine
Outpeering Time, too lofty for decay