 | Poems lyric and idyllic |  |
86
ITALY.
Beyond the blue Atlantic lifts a land,In many a vineyard terrace, from the sea,
And not alone those waters, lovingly,
Roll toward her, but every freeman's hand
Points thitherward, to cheer the noble band,
Whose flowing blood shall make this fair land free:
For, like a precious casket, Italy.
Set round with jewelled memories doth stand—
Full of her thousand gems of Art and Song.
But, Italy, for me thou dost contain
Three treasures richer than are said to throng
Thine Angelo's or Raffael's richest vein:
Mother and Sisters! unto you belong
My heart, and all the passion of this strain.
| Poems lyric and idyllic | |