UNDER the shadow of a stately Pile, The dome of Florence, pensive and alone, Nor giving heed to aught that passed the while, I stood, and gazed upon a marble stone, The laurelled Dante's favourite seat. A throne, In just esteem, it rivals; though no style Be there of decoration to beguile The mind, depressed by thought of greatness flown. As a true man, who long had served the lyre, I gazed with earnestness, and dared no more. But in his breast the mighty Poet bore A Patriot's heart, warm with undying fire. Bold with the thought, in reverence I sate down, And, for a moment, filled that empty Throne. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A HYMN OF HATE by DOROTHY PARKER TIME THE HANGMAN by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS WINTER NIGHT by CH'IEN WEN OF LIANG TO ELIZABETH, COUNTESS OF RUTLAND by BEN JONSON PHANTOMS ALL by HARRIET PRESCOTT SPOFFORD AT LAST by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER EVENING TRAINS by MARY TRUE AYER |