Page:Writings of Oscar Wilde - Volume 01.djvu/58

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 * O poet's city! one who scarce has seen

Some twenty summers cast their doublets green, For Autumn's livery, would seek in vain To wake his lyre to sing a louder strain, Or tell thy days of glory;—poor indeed Is the low murmur of the shepherd's reed, Where the loud clarion's blast should shake the sky, And flame across the heavens! and to try Such lofty themes were folly: yet I know That never felt my heart a nobler glow Than when I woke the silence of thy street With clamorous trampling of my horse's feet, And saw the city which now I try to sing, After long days of weary travelling.


 * Adieu, Ravenna! but a year ago,

I stood and watched the crimson sunset glow From the lone chapel on thy marshy plain: The sky was as a shield that caught the stain Of blood and battle from the dying sun, And in the west the circling clouds had spun