Here we behold most wondrous sights
No mortal understands,
Of stalactites and stalagmites,
A house not made with hands.
Here Nature set to work her hands
In ages long since gone,
That man might quit his work on lands
To see and ponder on.
What means these fluted columns tall,—
These pendants from the dome?
These sculptured figures large and small,
Excelling Greece and Rome?
This drapery striped with Nature’s hues,
In regular spaces wrought?
These scenes man’s pride at once subdues—
They are beyond his thought.