 | The Alhambra and Other Poems |  |
39
At Cimiez
These olive-woods and orange-groves,
These tulips, harlequins of glee,
Yon flecks of cloud, like woolly droves,
Across the blue immensity,—
These tulips, harlequins of glee,
Yon flecks of cloud, like woolly droves,
Across the blue immensity,—
This ancient ilex, sombre green,
The hill where stood Diana's shrine,
The shimmering waters' distant sheen,—
Touch they your heart? They cannot mine!
The hill where stood Diana's shrine,
The shimmering waters' distant sheen,—
Touch they your heart? They cannot mine!
Man takes not Nature for his Saint,
Her beauty is no more his creed;
The very breezes bear a taint
Of his insatiable greed.
Her beauty is no more his creed;
The very breezes bear a taint
Of his insatiable greed.
As gladly, gluttonous for gain,
He digs the flowers and fells the trees,
So would he foul the sapphired main
Or tear the heavenly tapestries!
He digs the flowers and fells the trees,
So would he foul the sapphired main
Or tear the heavenly tapestries!
| The Alhambra and Other Poems | |