IN Italy how comes the spring? I look across wide fields of snow To naked woods, and long to know How fair the shimmering mountains lie? How warm above them bends the sky Of Tuscany? What word from Rome the swallows bring, Swift sent to thee? Here stirs no life of bud nor wing; The trees by icy winds are torn; And yet I dream how flowers are born In Italy. I see the far, fair city swim Through mists of memory bright yet dim Shining, even as it shone of old Through Arno's haze of subtile gold, By witchery Of distance, light and evening spun. Tall cypresses against the sun Distinct I see, Defiling darkly up the hill, As when we wandered at our will In Italy. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE INCORRIGIBLE DIRIGIBLE by HAYDEN CARRUTH SELF-ANALYSIS by DAVID IGNATOW BRER RABBIT, YOU'S DE CUTES' OF 'EM ALL by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON FRAGMENT by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE LAWYERS KNOW TOO MUCH by CARL SANDBURG |