Love Among the Ruins

Where the quiet-colored end of evening smiles,Miles and milesOn the solitary pastures where our sheepHalf-asleepTinkle homeward through the twilight, stray or stopAs they crop--Was the site once of a city great and gay(So they say)Of our country's very capital, its princeAges sinceHeld his court in, gathered councils, wielding farPeace or war.

Now--the country does not even boast a tree,As you see,To distinguish slopes of verdure; certain rillsFrom the hillsIntersect and give a name to (else they runInto one)Where the domed and daring palace shot its spiresUp like firesO'er the hundred-gated circuit of a wallBounding all,Made of marble, men might march on nor be pressed,Twelve abreast.

And such plenty and perfection, see, of grassNever was!Such a carpet as, this summer-time, o'erspreadsAnd embedsEvery vestige of the city, guessed alone,Stock or stone--Where a multitude of men breathed joy and woeLong ago;Lust of glory pricked their hearts up, dread of shameStruck them tame;And that glory and that shame alike, the goldBought and sold.

Now--the single little turret that remainsOn the plains,By the caper overrooted, by the gourdOverscored,While the patching houseleek's head of blossom winksThrough the chinks--Marks the basement whence a tower in ancient timeSprang sublime,And a burning ring, all around, the chariots tracedAs they raced,And the monarch and his minions and his damesViewed the games.

And I know, while thus the quiet-colored eveSmiles to leaveTo their folding all our many-tinkling fleeceIn such peace,And the slopes and rills in undistinguished grayMelt away--That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hairWaits me thereIn the turret whence the charioteers caught soulFor the goal,When the king looked, where she looks now, breathless, dumbTill I come.

But he looked upon the city, every side,Far and wide,All the mountains topped with temples, all the glades'Colonnades,All the causeys, bridges, aqueducts--and then,All the men!When I do come, she will speak not, she will stand,Either handOn my shoulder, give her eyes the first embraceOf my face,Ere we rush, ere we extinguish sight and speechEach on each.

In one year they sent a million fighters forthSouth and North,And they built their gods a brazen pillar highAs the sky,Yet reserved a thousand chariots in full force--Gold, of course.O heart! O blood that freezes, blood that burns!Earth's returnsFor whole centuries of folly, noise and sin!Shut them in,With their triumphs and their glories and the rest!Love is best.