Altars.

THE SEA-CATHEDRAL

Vast and immaculate! No pilgrim bands

In ecstasy before the Parian shrines

Knew such a temple built by human hands

With this transcendent rhythm in its lines.

Like an epic on the north Atlantic stream

It moved, and fairer than a Phidian dream.

Rich gifts unknown to kings were duly brought

At dawn and sunset and at cloudless noons,

Gifts from the sea-gods and the sun who wrought

Cascades and rainbows; flung them in festoons

Over the spires, with emerald, amethyst,

Sapphire and pearl out of their fiery mist.

And music followed when a litany,

Begun with the ring of foam bells and the purl

Of linguals as the edges cut the sea,

Crashed upon a rising storm with whirl

Of floes from far-off spaces where Death rides

The darkened belfries of the evening tides.

Within the sunlight, vast, immaculate!

Beyond all reach of earth in majesty,

It passed on Southwards slowly to its fate—

To be drawn down by the inveterate sea,

Without one chastening fire made to start

From altars built around its polar heart.

E.J. Pratt