As stands a statue on its pedestal, Amidst the storms of civil mutiny, With an unchanged and high serenity, Though Caesar's self be toppled to his fall; So stands my faith in thee amidst the brawl Within my heart -- the woeful tragedy Of passions that conspire for mastery Above the power that holds their rage in thrall. Image of comfort! Lustrous as the star That crests the morning, and as virgin pure, All is not lost if thou wilt but endure! If through the dust and turmoil of this war, I may behold thee, stately and secure, Brooding on things unearthly and afar.