Classic Poem

On either side the houses stand
Orange-russet, buff, and tanned;
With the cataract stairs aflow from above
In the dead-leaf tints that painters love,

From the Trinity towers upon the Mount
Down to Bernini's spindling fount;
And bent over all the wondrous hue
Of a Roman winter's tender blue.

Here on the street a riot of green, —
Holly and broom, — while bright between,
Iris and rose, and a scarlet row
Where tall poinsettia blossoms glow.

Did he see it thus at a Christmas tide
From yonder room where he pined and died, —
That lonely English lad, who came
With a heart athirst for love and fame?

Ah! Spanish Steps! since Keats's day
What hungry hearts have passed your way!
What longings for love and fame and home
Have sunk to rest in the arms of Rome.