Some models of them; then we sought
The Campo Santo,[4] where we thought
About the dead, while smoking.
We took the train at sunset, we,
And while we left the station,
Extoll’d the land, “How much to see!
How grand this Roman nation!
Our own, how mean!—no works of art!”
We strove to sigh, but check’d a start
And cried, “How home-like!” o’er and o’er.—