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Robert Laurence Binyon - UmbriaRobert Laurence Binyon - Umbria
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Deep Italian day with a wide--washed splendour fills Umbria green with valleys, blue with a hundred hills. Dim in the south Soracte, a far rock faint as a cloud Rumours Rome, that of old spoke over earth, ``Thou art mine!`` Mountain shouldering mountain circles us forest--browed Heaped upon each horizon in fair uneven line; And white as on builded altars tipped with a vestal flame City on city afar from the thrones of the mountains shine, Kindling, for us that name them, many a memoried fame, Out of the murmuring ages, flushing the heart like wine. Pilgrim--desired Assisi is there; Spoleto proud With Rome`s imperial arches, with hanging woods divine: Monte Falco hovers above the hazy vale Of sweet Clitumnus loitering under poplars pale; O`er Foligno, Trevi clings upon Apennine. And over this Umbrian earth--from where with bright snow spread Towers abrupt Leonessa, huge, like a dragon`s chine, To western Ammiata`s mist--apparelled head, Ammiata, that sailors watch on wide Tyrrhenian waves,-- Lie in the jealous gloom of cold and secret shrine Or Gorgon--sculptured chamber hewn in old rock caves, Hiding their dreams from the light, the austere Etruscan dead. O lone forests of oak and little cyclamens red Flowering under shadowy silent boughs benign! Streams that wander beneath us over a pebbly bed! Hedges of dewy hawthorn and wild woodbine! Now as the eastern ranges flush and the high air chills Blurring meadowy vale, blackening heaths of pine, Now as in distant Todi, loftily--towered--a sign To wearying travellers--lights o`er hollow Tiber gleam, Now our voices are stilled and our eyes are given to a dream, As night, upbringing o`er us the ancient stars anew, Stars that triumphing Caesar and tender Francis knew, With fancied voices mild, august, immortal, fills Umbria dim with valleys, dark with a hundred hills.
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