WHEN Roman fields are red with cyclamen, And in the palace gardens you may find, Under great leaves and sheltering briony-bind, Clusters of cream-white violets, oh then The ruined city of immortal men Must smile, a little to her fate resigned, And through her corridors the slow warm wind Gush harmonies beyond a mortal ken. Such soft favonian airs upon a flute, Such shadowy censers burning live perfume, Shall lead the mystic city to her tomb; Nor flowerless springs, nor autumns without fruit, Nor summer mornings when the winds are mute, Trouble her soul till Rome be no more Rome. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TYRANNICK [TYRANNIC] LOVE: EPILOGUE by JOHN DRYDEN SAINT AGNES' EVE by ALFRED TENNYSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 40. AL-MUKIT by EDWIN ARNOLD PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 87. AL-GHANI by EDWIN ARNOLD BURIAL AT SEA by JESSIE GODDARD BROMAN |