Classic and Contemporary Poetry
VENICE, by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL Poet's Biography First Line: I am venezia, that sad magdalen Last Line: I hurt the tender with my speechless pain. Subject(s): Venice, Italy | ||||||||
I AM Venezia, that Sad Magdalen, Who with her lovers' arms the turbaned East Smote, and through lusty centuries of gain Lived a wild queen of battle and of feast. I netted, in gold meshes of my hair, The great of soul; painter and poet, priest, Bent at my will with picture, song, and prayer, And ever love of me their fame increased, Till I, queen, became the slave of slaves, And, like the ghost-kings of the Umbrian plain, Saw from my centuries torn, as from their graves, The priceless jewels of my haughty reign. Gone are my days of gladness; now in vain I hurt the tender with my speechless pain. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ELEVATED by JOHN FREDERICK NIMS SURFACES AND MASKS; 12 by CLARENCE MAJOR SURFACES AND MASKS; 2 by CLARENCE MAJOR SURFACES AND MASKS; 1 by CLARENCE MAJOR SURFACES AND MASKS; 3 by CLARENCE MAJOR SURFACES AND MASKS; 30 by CLARENCE MAJOR SURFACES AND MASKS; 6 by CLARENCE MAJOR SURFACES AND MASKS; 7 by CLARENCE MAJOR ROSE COLORED GLASSES by KENNETH REXROTH A DECANTER OF MADEIRA, AGED 86, TO GEORGE BANCROFT, AGED 86 by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL HOW THE CUMBERLAND WENT DOWN [MARCH 8, 1862] by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL |
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