San Vito Romano and Rome
O Roma, Roma, at thy feet,
I lay this barren gift of song!
For, ah! the way is steep and long,
That leads unto thy sacred street.
And yet what joy it were for me
To turn my feet unto the south,
And journeying towards the Tiber mouth
To kneel again at Fiesole
And wandering through the tangled pines
That break the gold of Arno's stream,
To see the purple mist and gleam
Of morning on the Apennines.
By many a vineyard-hidden home,
Orchard, and olive-garden grey,
Till from the drear Campagna's way
The seven hills bear up the dome!
- Oscar Wilde, Rome Unvisited
