The Cloisters: The City of God

Throughout the older word, story and rite —
Throughout the new, skirting all clouds with gold-
Through rise and fall and destinies manifold
Of pagan empires — through the dreams and night
Of nature, and the darkness and the light,
Still young in hope, in disappointment old —
Through mists which fall'n humanity enfold —
Into the vast and viewless infinite,
Rises th' Eternal City of our God.
Her towers the morn with disenchanting rod
Dimly and darkly labours to disclose,
Lifting the outskirts of the o'er-mantling gloom ;
Bright shapes come forth, arch, pinnacle, and dome,
In Heaven is hid its height and deep repose.