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Robert Laurence Binyon - Lycabettus
Work rating: Low

Lycabett at every steep street`s ending
 Is there
 Surprising the eyes, and ascending
 Aloof, pointed bare
 Into the bluest blue
 That ever the live light
 Poured pulsing through.
 O spiring, tawny--caverned, crested white,
 Pine--skirted Lycabett!
 Lifting above spread roofs this craggy height,
 What have you to do
 With the sprawled city`s modern swarm and hum,
 You that have seen the ages go and come
 From the first sun--rise to the last sun--set?
 When Athens wore her wondrous bloom,
 Her dateless violet,
 You had no ornament nor dress;
 And who had eyes for you?--
 Wild earth, rude rock,
 What history? Only solitariness.
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