It changes its face,
It changes its age,
Now a young, beaming grace,
Now Nestorian sage;
But, to the pure in heart,
This shape of primal art
In age is fair,
In youth seems wise,
Beyond compare,
Above surprise;
What it teaches native seems,
Its new lore our ancient dreams;
Incense rises from the ground;
Music flows around;
Firm rest the feet below, clear gaze the eyes above,
When Truth, to point the way through life, assumes the wand of Love;
But, if she cast aside the robe of green,
Winter's silver sheen,
White, pure as light,
Makes gentle shroud as worthy weed as bridal robe had been.

[Footnote: As described by the historians:--
"The temple of Juno is like what the character of Woman should be.
Columns! graceful decorums, attractive yet sheltering.
Porch! noble, inviting aspect of the life.
Kaos! receives the worshippers. See here the statue of the Divinity.
Ophistodpmos! Sanctuary where the most precious possessions were kept
safe from the hand of the spoiler and the eye of the world."]