Etrurian domes, Pelasgian walls, Sive fountains, with their nymphs around, Terraced and citron-scented halls, Skies smiling upon scented walls; The giant Alps, averse to France, Pant with impatient pride to those, Calling the Briton to advance Amid eternal rocks and snows. I dare not bid him stay behind, I dare not tell him where to see The fairest form, the purest mind, Ansomia! that ere sprang from thee. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BRUTUS AND ANTONY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS TREES by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: SAILORS' [OR MARINERS'] SONG by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES THE MASTER'S TOUCH by HORATIO (HORATIUS) BONAR THE WRITER'S JOURNAL: POSSESSION by BAYARD TAYLOR LOVE: AN ELEGY by MARK AKENSIDE THE ARCIERI OF MICHELANGELO by WILLIAM ROSE BENET |