Yon tower that gleams against the blackening east,
Borrowing such haughty radiance of the sun,
Stands like a Christian in the dark cold world,
Confronting, in the glory Heaven has lent,
The loathsomeness of ill, and making sin
The fouler for its fairness. On his way
The traveller pauses with insatiate gaze,
And turns his back upon Heaven's fountain fire,
To admire its faint reflection in man's work.
Vain moralizer! Know'st thou not thyself?