With high-pitched arch, low parapet, And narrow thoroughfare, it stands As strong as when the mortar set Beneath the Roman mason's hands. An ancient ivy grips its walls, Tall grasses tuft its coping-stones; Beneath, through citron shadow, falls The stream in drowsy undertones. No road leads hence. The stonechat flits Along green fallow grey with stone; But here a dark-eyed urchin sits, To whom the Painted Men were known. Hush! do not move, but only look. When sunny days are long and fine This Roman truant baits a hook, Drops o'er the keystone here a line, And, dangling sandalled feet, looks down To see the swift trout dart and gleam -- Or scarcely see them, hanging brown With heads against the clear brown stream. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 9 by THOMAS CAMPION NEARER by ROBERT MALISE BOWYER NICHOLS RIFLEMAN FORM! by ALFRED TENNYSON CANE: NOVEMBER COTTON FLOWER by JEAN TOOMER OUR BROTHER'S KEEPER by W. H. ANDERSON THE FROGS: THE RIVAL POETS by ARISTOPHANES THE BUS by MABEL WARREN ARNOLD |