MASON MARKS
Anonymous
They're
traced in lines on the Parthenon,
Inscribed by the subtle
Greek;
And
Roman legions have carved them on
Walls,
roads and arch antique;
Long ere
the Goth, with vandal hand,
Gave
scope to his envy dark,
The
Mason craft in many a land
Has
graven its Mason mark.
The
obelisk old and the pyramids,
Around
which a mystery clings,-
The
Hieroglyphs on the coffin lids
Of weird
Egyptian kings,
Syria,
Carthage and Pompeii,
Buried
and strewn and stark,
Have
marble records that will not die,
Their
primitive Mason mark.
Upon
column and frieze and capital,
In the
eye of the chaste volute, -
On
Scotia's curve, or an astrogal,
Or in
triglyp's channel acute,-
Cut
somewhere on the entablature,
And oft,
like a sudden spark,
Flashing
a light on a date obscure,
Shines
many a Mason mark.
These
craftsmen old had a genial whim,
That
nothing could ever destroy,
With a
love of their art that naught could dim,
They
toiled with a chronic joy;
Nothing
was too complex to essay,
In aught
they dashed to embark;
They
triumphed on many an Appian Way,
Where
they'd left their Mason mark.
Crossing
the Alps like Hannibal,
Or
skirting the Pyranees,
On peak
and plain, in crypt and cell,
On foot
or on bandaged knees; -
From
Tiber to Danube, from Rhine to Seine,
They
needed no "letters of marque;" -
Their
art was their passport in France and Spain,
And in
Britain their Mason mark.
The
monolith gray and Druid chair,
The
pillars and towers of Gael,
In
Ogharn occult their age they bear,
That
time can only reveal.
Live on,
old monuments of the past,
Our
beacons through ages dark!
In
primal majesty still you'll last,
Endeared
by each Mason mark.
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