"O frate moi! ciascuna e cittadina D' una vera citta"... THERE is a city, builded by no hand, And unapproachable by sea or shore, And unassailable by any band Of storming soldiery for evermore. There we no longer shall divide our time By acts or pleasures, -- doing petty things Of work or warfare, merchandise or rhyme; But we shall sit beside the silver springs That flow from God's own footstool, and behold Sages and martyrs, and those blessed few Who loved us once and were beloved of old, To dwell with them and walk with them anew, In alternations of sublime repose, Musical motion, the perpetual play Of every faculty that Heaven bestows Through the bright, busy, and eternal day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DONKEY by GILBERT KEITH CHESTERTON THE GREENWOOD SHRIFT; GEORGE III AND A DYING WOMAN IN WINDSOR FOREST by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE BEGGAR MAID [AND KING COPHETUA] by ALFRED TENNYSON THE DAY OF JUDGEMENT; AN ODE ATTEMPTED IN ENGLISH SAPPHIC by ISAAC WATTS THE ART OF PRESERVING HEALTH: BOOK 2. RUSTIC INTERIOR by JOHN ARMSTRONG HERE ENTER NOT by KATHARINE CANBY BALDERSTON TO HIS WIFE WITH A KNIFE ON THE 14TH ANNIVERSARY OF HER WEDDING DAY by SAMUEL BISHOP |