WHEN Roman fields are red with cyclamen, And in the palace gardens you may find, Under great leaves and sheltering briony-bind, Clusters of cream-white violets, oh then The ruined city of immortal men Must smile, a little to her fate resigned, And through her corridors the slow warm wind Gush harmonies beyond a mortal ken. Such soft favonian airs upon a flute, Such shadowy censers burning live perfume, Shall lead the mystic city to her tomb; Nor flowerless springs, nor autumns without fruit, Nor summer mornings when the winds are mute, Trouble her soul till Rome be no more Rome. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A PECK OF GOLD by ROBERT FROST AGAINST THE REST OF THE YEAR by JAMES GALVIN THE WILLOW by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE MAN WITH THE HOE OUTWITTED by EDWIN MARKHAM DOMESDAY BOOK: BARRETT BAYS by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |