The outline of a shadowy city spread
Between the garden and the distant hill —
And o’ er yon dome the flame-ring lingers still,
Set like the glory on an angel’ s head:
The light fades quivering into evening blue
Behind the pine-tops on Ianiculum;
The swallow whispered to the swallow “come!”
And took the sunset on her wings, and flew.
One rift of cloud the wind caught up suspending
A ruby path between the earth and sky;
Those shreds of gold are angel wings ascending
From where the sorrows of our singers lie;
They have not found those wandering spirits yet,
But seek for ever in the red sunset.
Pass upward angel wings! Seek not for these,
They sit not in the cypress-planted graves;
Their spirits wander over moonlit waves,
And sing in all the singing of the seas;
And by green places in the spring-tide showers,
And in the re-awakening of flowers.
Some pearl-lipped shell still dewy with sea foam
Bear back to whisper where their feet have trod;
They are the earth’ s for evermore; fly home!
And lay a daisy at the feet of God.