Life's volume turned in that enchanted air,—
O friend! how we recall the Italian days
Amid the Cæsar's ruined palace halls,—
The Coliseum, and the frescoed blaze
Of proud St. Peter's dome,—the Sistine walls,—
The lone Campagna and the village green,—
The Vatican,—the music and dim light
Of gorgeous temples,—statues, pictures, seen
With thee: those sunny days return so bright,
Now thou art gone! Thou hast a fairer world