Page:Writings of Oscar Wilde - Volume 01.djvu/46

32 A year ago!—it seems a little time Since last I saw that lordly southern clime, Where flower and fruit to purple radiance blow, And like bright lamps the fabled apples grow. Full Spring it was—and by rich flowering vines, Dark olive-groves and noble forest-pines, I rode at will; the moist glad air was sweet, The white road rang beneath my horse's feet, And musing on Ravenna's ancient name, I watched the day till, marked with wounds of flame, The turquoise sky to burnished gold was turned.


 * O how my heart with boyish passion burned,

When far away across the sedge and mere I saw that Holy City rising clear, Crowned with her crown of towers!—On and on I galloped, racing with the setting sun, And ere the crimson after-glow was passed, I stood within Ravenna's walls at last!


 * How strangely still! no sound of life or joy

Startles the air! no laughing shepherd-boy Pipes on his reed, nor ever through the day Comes the glad sound of children at their play: