The gilded phaloi of the crocuses are thrusting at the spring air. Here is there naught of dead gods But a procession of festival, A procession, O Giulio Romano, Fit for your spirit to dwell in. Dione, your nights are upon us. The dew is upon the leaf. The night about us is restless. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WHERE A ROMAN VILLA STOOD, ABOVE FREIBURG' by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE THE DESERTED HOUSE by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE AN UNINSCRIBED MONUMENT - BATTLE OF THE WILDERNESS by HERMAN MELVILLE THE LITTLE GHOST by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE BLUEBELLS OF NEW ENGLAND by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH |