IN tortuous windings up the steep incline The sombre street toils to the village square, Whose antique walls in stone and moulding bear Dumb witness to the Moor. Afar off shine, With tier on tier, cutting heaven's blue divine, The snowy Alps; and lower the hills are fair, With wave-green olives rippling down to where Gold clusters hang and leaves of sunburnt vine. You may perchance, I never shall forget When, between twofold glory of land and sea, We leant together o'er the old parapet, And saw the sun go down. For, oh, to me, The beauty of that beautiful strange place Was its reflection beaming from your face. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BELL by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES DRAKE'S DRUM by HENRY JOHN NEWBOLT SONNET: 148 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE TWO TREES by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS ALMOND BLOSSOM by EDWIN ARNOLD THE WORLD'S DESIRE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |