Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold :: :: University of Virginia Library

Lo, among the mean and meagre structures of a sterile art
Came the Architekton, eager with the measures in His heart
Of a great and goodly Building which would last and laugh and shine
In a glory for no gilding to make meeter or refine.
And He spake—
“Come, bring me metal
Purer than the white snow-flake,
Gold as yellow as the petal
Of the buttercup's gold breast;
And of treasure at My pleasure all your silver hoards and best;
And of timber and of stone,
Whatever may become my throne.”

So they brought Him of their rarest riches what their hands had won,
Precious gems, and marbles fairest, freshly quarried, grandly done,
And they laid them as a present at the Architekton's feet,
Till the whole wide land seemed pleasant with their comeliness and sweet.
And they spake—
“Behold the beauty,
As of virgin flowers that brake
Out beneath the steps of duty
When it trod the martyr's path,
And the blessing of caressing earth redeemed the murderer's wrath;
Here is masonry, and store
Of choicest things—what would'st thou more?”

Then the Architekton graciously accepted all their gifts,
For the Building must be spaciously upreared and with no rifts

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And no blank of imperfection in its splendour full and soft,
Springing like the resurrection of a ransomed world aloft.
But He spake
Again in weeping—
“Ah, the House I cannot make
Yet without a bitter steeping
Of its bases in the flood,
Which is given by the riven hearts of servants and their blood;
Ye have lent what labour hives,
But now I want your noblest lives.”

So the purest of the preachers in the silence and the shade
With the wisest among teachers, as the awful summons bade,
Flocked and with no thought of trembling in the greatest or the least
To the hallowed ground assembling as unto a marriage feast.
And they spake—
“We come, O Master,
Gladly, quickly, for Thy sake,
Proud to bear the last disaster
As delight and due to Thee,
Who hast finely and divinely fashioned us so strong and free;
We obey Thy solemn call,
And here we lay ourselves and all.”

Then the Architekton raising high the body of His thought
Built the saintly souls, that praising Him waxed lovelier as He wrought
Them and their supreme oblation to a texture strange and new
From a perfect consecration, in His Will which outward grew.

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And He spake—
“My children dying
Thus with dearer charms awake
And in forms that are not flying,
Merged within a broader ken;
For the nations' firm foundations are the holy lives of men;
And for every conquering creed,
The blood must be the vital seed.”

So the Building with that leaven and the red baptismal dew
Leapt like fire abroad to Heaven and on wings of wonder flew,
Waxing brighter with the ages, and illuming dark and dearth
With the glory of its pages, till it overshadowed earth.
But none spake
Good words or pondered,
Though they greedy were to take
All the priceless jewels squandered
On their bases of all bliss;
Though they cared not, and they spared not hearts that only bled for this;
And none heeded, or would know
Who were the martyrs laid below.