Classic Poem

A thousand leagues of steam and foam,
To breathe, tho' but an hour, in Rome!
To wake in Florence, or to be
Cradled in Venice by the sea!
Yet sometimes, lady, when thine eyes
Are weary of yon wondrous skies,
With all thy pulses languid grown
To miracles in stain and stone,
Seek thou some sacred fountain dim,
A mirror with its marble rim,
And bend thy " sunbeam " face to see
The fairest thing in Italy!
Yea, lovelier than the sunset seas,
Kindled to guide the Genoese!