I saw thy beauty in its high estate
Of perfect empire, where at set of sun
In the cool twilight of thy lucent leaves
The dewy freshness told that day was done.
Hast thou no gift beyond thine ivory cone’s
Surpassing loveliness? Art thou not near—
More near than we—to nature’s silentness;
Is it not voiceful to thy finer ear?
As the Transatlantic tourists
Have been rowed on the Lagoon,
They have mourned its ancient glories,
They have watched the Germans spoon.
As they ’ve sailed these famous highways,
As they ’ve floated on these tides,
The arts that most impressed them
Were the artless German brides.
As they ’ve listened to the music...
Venice, thou Siren of sea cities, wrought
By mirage, built on water, stair o’er stair,
Of sunbeams and cloud shadows, phantom-fair,
With naught of earth to mar thy sea-born thought!
Thou floating film upon the wonder-fraught
Ocean of dreams! Thou hast no dream so rare
As are thy sons and daughters,—they who wear
Foam flakes of...
From “Italy”
THERE is a glorious City in the Sea.
The Sea is in the broad, the narrow streets,
Ebbing and flowing; and the salt sea-weed
Clings to the marble of her palaces.
No track of men, no footsteps to and fro,
Lead to her gates. The path lies o’er the Sea,
Invisible; and from the land we went,
As to a floating City,—...
From “View from the Euganean Hills”
ALL is bright and clear and still
Round the solitary hill.
Beneath is spread like a green sea
The waveless plain of Lombardy,
Bounded by the vaporous air,
Islanded by cities fair;
Underneath day’s azure eyes,
Ocean’s nursling, Venice, lies,—
A peopled labyrinth of walls,
...
