A WHITE and dusty cross the highways sign
On flowered yellow stubbles which the vine,
Figures from crutch to crutch with a green line:
Prosperous labours as in song of thine!
Phrasing gravely a speech of master shape
To render Rome, or musing grain and grape,
Among the poplars there in bronze he stands.

Yonder down a green trodden avenue
Towards him the village church looks over, who
Bearing his lamp behind led others through
The dark, and sang of greater than he knew.
Son of these quiet fields a league away
From the white reedy lakes where Manto lay,
Poet and prophet to all times and lands!