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<MT >MEN AND WOMAN
<T >LOVE AMONG THE RUINS
<R 1>
WHERE the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles
Miles and miles
On the solitary pastures where our sheep
Half-asleep
Tinkle homeward thro' the twilight, stray or stop
As they crop--
<R 2>
Was the site once of a city great and gay,
(So they say)
Of our country's very capital, its prince
Ages since
Held his court in, gathered councils, wielding far
<R 3>
Now--the country does not even boast a tree,
As you see,
To distinguish slopes of verdure, certain rills
From the hills
Interest and give a name to, (else they run
Into one)
<R 4>
Where the domed and daring palace shot its spires
Up like fires
O'er the hundred-gated circuit of a wall
Bounding all,
Made of marble, men might march on nor be prest,
Twelve abreast.
<R 5>
And . . .
