On alien ground, breathing an alien air A Roman stood, far from his ancient home, And gazing, murmured, "Ah, the hills are fair, But not the hills of Rome!' Descendant of a race to Romans kin, Where the old son of Empire stood, I stand. The self-same rocks fold the same valley in, Untouched of human hand. Over another shines the self-same star, Another heart with nameless longing fills, Crying aloud, "How beautiful they are, But not our English hills!' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE IMMORTAL MEMORY OF THE HALIBUT ON WHICH I DINED by WILLIAM COWPER SUNSET AND SUNRISE by EMILY DICKINSON INSPIRATION by SAMUEL JOHNSON (1822-1882) UPON THE CIRCUMCISION by JOHN MILTON BASE DETAILS by SIEGFRIED SASSOON LINCOLN'S BIRTHDAY by JOHN KENDRICK BANGS THE THREE MUSICIANS by AUBREY BEARDSLEY |