Reminiscent

THROUGH seas of light above the opal blue Across the Adriatic sped our ship, Her long wake trailing towards the ocean’s lip, Far from the isles of Greece; in our fond view A vision bright that all our thoughts embue; Which from the Book of Days may never slip But in the golden haze of memory dip, And its fresh youth continually renew.

It was my fortune late to tread upon The marble stairs of Athens’ sacred steep, To see its columned gate in moonlight sleep Beneath the shadow of the Parthenon, Fair still in ruin, though well Time might weep For Pallas fallen and her glory gone.