Venice
White clouds that rose clouds chase
Till the sky laughs round, blue and bare;
Sunbeams that quivering waves out—race
To sparkle kisses on a marble stair;
Indolent water that images
Slender—pillared palaces,
Or glides in shadow and sun, where, over
Walls that leaning crumble red,
Milky blossom and fresh leaf hover,
Or glitters in endless morning spread,
Far and faint for dazzling miles
To lonely towers and cypress isles,
Where phantom mountains hang on high
Along the mist of northern sky:
O Love, what idle tale is told
That these are glories famed and old?
For to—day I know it is all in you,
This vision, bathed in magic blue,
My sea that girdles me round and round
With winding arms in deeps profound,
And bears our thoughts like golden sails
To be lost where the far verge gleams and pales,
My sky that over the mountains brings
The stars, and gives us wondrous wings,
My dawn that pierces the secret night
To the central heart of burning light
And thousand—coloured flames and flowers
In radiant palaces, domes and towers!
A marvel born of sky and sea,
’Tis all in you, that have given it me.
