O, most dear to memory Is that Island in the sea, Where the wild purple passion-flower blooms; There the breezes sink to sleep On the bosom of the deep, Made drowsy with the weight of sweet perfumes. There the towers darkly frown High above the subject town, Where the banner of the Master floats no more; And the sound of convent bells From the valley upward swells, And the Lotus-eaters dream upon the shore. There a saint's uplifted hand Pours a blessing on the land, And pilgrims kneel before the lighted fane; And the old heroic past Throws a shadow dim and vast, Like a giant's, from the mountain to the plain. Now my heart beats faint and slow In this land of storm and snow, As I picture to myself that happy scene; But the beautiful was mine, In the land of song and wine, And my soul rejoices now that such has been. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PRESIDENT GARFIELD by GEORGE SANTAYANA OUT WHERE THE WEST BEGINS by ARTHUR CHAPMAN BAVARIAN GENTIANS by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE THE SWAMP ANGEL by HERMAN MELVILLE RIDDLE: A BLACKSMITH by MOTHER GOOSE ON THE DEATH OF A METAPHYSICIAN by GEORGE SANTAYANA THE KNIGHTS: THE POET AND HIS RIVALS by ARISTOPHANES |