Genoa

Where Genoa spreads white arms crescent-wise, Her feet o’er well-packed bale and polished spar Step on the quay with men of every star. Her heart stays with her people; but her eyes From those high garden-terraces devise New realms of peaceful conquest, where afar Ocean’s white horses at the harbour-bar Wait ever for their rider to arise.

Here boy Columbus stood, and o’er the blue Immeasurable fields imagined new. Here young Mazzini, while for men he yearned, Another world within their eyes discerned-- The one Republic without place or date. So both for men lived,--and died execrate.

January, 1873.