XIII. WHEN on bleak Jura's hills I stood, and saw, O Italy, from far those heights sublime Which curtain thee from every ruder clime, A feeling of deep love and nameless awe Wrapped my bowed heart, and mutely did I draw Reverencing breath: Thy glories in old time, Thy second spring yet dearer than thy prime, Such homage claim as by a natural law From souls which own a sense of all that earth Can boast of grand and lovely;—but, oh God! Still must thy consecrated soil be trod By the polluting hoofs of dullest slaves? No, open on them with a thousand graves, And stand in Majesty and Freedom forth! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WISE WOMAN by SARA TEASDALE PUTTIN' THE BABY AWAY by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR LESSER EPISTLES: TO BERNARD LINTOTT by JOHN GAY TO A DOG'S MEMORY by LOUISE IMOGEN GUINEY ON THE SLAIN AT CHICKAMAUGA by HERMAN MELVILLE |