 | Voices and visions |  |
193
THE FALLEN CAMPANILE
As one that draws the drapery from a face
Where some great painter's power hath sought to crush
The souls of lily and rose in one rare blush
Of heavenly womanhood, I seem to trace
Ethereal hands that tenderly displace
Memory's dull veils, till o'er my spirit rush
Tumultuous dreams of Venice, with her flush
Of beauty and pomp, her grandeurs robed in grace.
Where some great painter's power hath sought to crush
The souls of lily and rose in one rare blush
Of heavenly womanhood, I seem to trace
Ethereal hands that tenderly displace
Memory's dull veils, till o'er my spirit rush
Tumultuous dreams of Venice, with her flush
Of beauty and pomp, her grandeurs robed in grace.
Folded for ever by the sweet caress
Of arms that from the blue auxiliar sea
Glide up to engird and clasp her as their own,
O flower of cities, with pale palaces
And glitter of waves for petals, can it be
That time thy glorious crest hath overthrown?
Of arms that from the blue auxiliar sea
Glide up to engird and clasp her as their own,
O flower of cities, with pale palaces
And glitter of waves for petals, can it be
That time thy glorious crest hath overthrown?
September 1902.
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