Low hung the moon when first I stood in Rome; Midway she seemed attracted from her sphere, On those twin fountains shining broad and clear Whose floods, not mindless of their mountain home, Rise there in clouds of rainbow mist and foam. That hour fulfilled the dream of many a year: Through that thin mist, with joy akin to fear, The steps I saw, the pillars, last, the dome. A spiritual empire there embodied stood; The Roman Church there met me face to face: Ages, sealed up, of evil and of good Slept in that circling colonnade's embrace. Alone I stood, a stranger and alone, Changed by that stony miracle to stone. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LILIES: 16. MY GIFT by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) ASPIRATIONS: 11 by MATHILDE BLIND A DREAM by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT TRAGEDIES by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON A DANCE FOR RAIN (AT COCHITI, NEW MEXICO) by WITTER BYNNER THE MYTH (A THAMES TROUT) by PATRICK REGINALD CHALMERS ISRAEL'S LAMENT by MIRIAM DEL BANCO |