Page:The Hundred Best Poems (lyrical) in the English language - second series.djvu/23



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MIST clogs the sunshine. Smoky dwarf houses Hem me round everywhere; A vague dejection Weighs down my soul.

Yet, while I languish, Everywhere countless Prospects unroll themselves, And countless beings Pass countless moods.

Far hence, in Asia, On the smooth convent-roofs, On the gilt terraces, Of holy Lassa, Bright shines the sun.

Grey time-worn marbles Hold the pure Muses; In their cool gallery, By yellow Tiber, They still look fair.

Strange unloved uproar Shrills round their portal;

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