UNTO a lonely villa in a dell Above the fragrant warm Provencal shore The dying Rachel in a chair they bore Up the steep pine-plumed paths of the Estrelle, And laid her in a stately room, where fell The shadow of a marble Muse of yore-- The rose-crown'd queen of legendary lore, Polymnia--full on her death-bed. 'Twas well! The fret and misery of our northern towns, In this her life's last day, our poor, our pain, Our jangle of false wits, our climate's frowns, Do for this radiant Greek-soul'd artist cease; Sole object of her dying eyes remain The beauty and the glorious art of Greece. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BLOOD IS THICKER THAN WATER by WALLACE RICE FIDELIA: 4. THE AUTHOR'S RESOLUTION IN A SONNET by GEORGE WITHER PORTRAIT SONNETS: 3 by HENRY BELLAMANN HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 5 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 37 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |