Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, ed. Poems of Places: An Anthology in 31 Volumes.
Italy: Vols. XI–XIII. 1876–79.
A Roman Aqueduct
By Oliver Wendell Holmes (18091894)T
When noon her languid hand has laid
Hot on the green flakes of the pine,
Beneath its narrow disk of shade;
She gazes on the rainbow chain
Of arches, lifting once in air
The rivers of the Roman’s plain;—
The mountain-current’s icy wave,
Or for the dead one tear let fall,
Whose founts are broken by their grave?
Her braided tracery’s winding veil,
And lacing stalks and tangled leaves
Nod heavy in the drowsy gale.
That swings beneath her slender bow,
Arch answering arch,—whose rounded line
Seems mirrored in the wreath below.
The weeds, that strewed the victor’s way,
Feed on his dust to shroud his name,
Green where his proudest towers decay.
The scanty rain its tribute pours,—
Which cooled the lip and laved the brow
Of conquerors from a hundred shores.
Whose wants the captive earth supplied,
The dew of Memory’s passing tear
Falls on the arches of her pride!