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Arthur Symons - Villa Pamphili
Work rating: Low

The daisies whiten the warm grass : 
I see the sun, a shadow, pass: 
And I forget that winter was. 

The black rooks call across the sky: 
The black-robed scholar-priests go by: 
About the grass pale children lie. 

All sorrowful and cloistered things, 
As if this sunlight were the Spring`s, 
Desire the ecstasy of wings. 

And even my soul, long used to grope 
Within its self-entangled scope, 
Dreams of the opening wings of hope.
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