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Oscar Wilde - Sonnet On Approaching Italy
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I REACHED the Alps: the soul within me burned
 Italia, my Italia, at thy name:
 And when from out the mountain`s heart I came
And saw the land for which my life had yearned,
I laughed as one who some great prize had earned:
 And musing on the story of thy fame
 I watched the day, till marked with wounds of flame
The turquoise sky to burnished gold was turned,
The pine-trees waved as waves a woman`s hair,
 And in the orchards every twining spray                   


            Was breaking into flakes of blossoming foam:
          But when I knew that far away at Rome
            In evil bonds a second Peter lay,
            I wept to see the land so very fair.

          TURIN.
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