TUSCAN, that wanderest through the realms of gloom, With thoughtful pace, and sad, majestic eyes, Stern thoughts and awful from thy soul arise, Like Farinata from his fiery tomb. Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom; Yet in thy heart what human sympathies, What soft compassion glows, as in the skies The tender stars their clouded lamps relume! Methinks I see thee stand with pallid cheeks By Fra Hilario in his diocese, As up the convent-walls, in golden streaks, The ascending sunbeams mark the day's decrease; And, as he asks what there the stranger seeks, Thy voice along the cloister whispers "Peace!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...YOUTH'S IMMORTALITY by GEORGE SANTAYANA EPITAPH: FOR MY GRANDMOTHER by COUNTEE CULLEN O MORS! QUAM AMARA EST MEMORIA TUA HOMINI PACEM HABENTI by ERNEST CHRISTOPHER DOWSON WOMEN MEN'S SHADOWS by BEN JONSON THE SHOOTING OF DAN MCGREW by ROBERT WILLIAM SERVICE SONNET: 7 by RICHARD BARNFIELD ENGLAND'S PRAYER by WILLIAM BLUNDELL THE STEALING OF THE MARE; AN ARABIC EPIC OF THE TENTH CENTURY by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |