Be this the chosen site; the virgin sod,
Moistened from age to age by dewy eve,
Shall disappear, and grateful earth receive
The corner-stone from hands that build to God.
Yon reverend hawthorns, hardened to the rod
Of winter storms, yet budding cheerfully;
Those forest oaks of Druid memory,
Shall long survive, to shelter the Abode
Of genuine Faith. Where, haply, ‘mid this band
Of daisies, shepherds sate of yore and wove
May-garlands, there let the holy altar stand
For kneeling adoration; while above,
Broods, visibly portrayed, the mystic Dove,
That shall protect from blasphemy the Land.
Read all of William Wordsworth's poems · About William Wordsworth
More by William Wordsworth
- Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part III. - XXXV - Old Abbeys
- Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part III. - XXXVI - Emigrant French Clergy
- Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part III. - XXXVII - Congratulation
- Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part III. - XXXVIII - New Churches
- Elegiac Musings - In The Grounds Of Coleorton Hall, The Seat Of The Late Sir G.H. Beaumont, Bart.
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