Classic Poem

Meseems it, sweet, that like a life I know
Is this old city. Here, where tower and square
Lift fissured faces into the bright air,
Here once did falchions glitter, trumpets blow,
While windows blushed with flags, as, with the glow
Of blood, a manly cheek. From the altar stair
A people armed did the Priest's blessing bear,
Then, fighting, rushed on heaven. To-night, full slow
The broad barge parts the lilies in the stream,
The past is dead, save where in churches gleam
Lights o'er the city's heroes — now her saints;
So, in one desolate heart, howe'er it faints
With thoughts of things that have been, is a shrine
Where earth's translated love is now divine.