Is black against the yellow arch of sky;
And purple-peaked within the sunset’s porch,
The Euganean hills like islands lie—
Children of Padua, but to Venice friends!
Who that has seen them in the evening hour,
But has forgotten earthly cares and ends,
All things but Love that never loses power;
And from St. George among the Seaweed, set
A sapphire isle in golden waters, down
To the Armenian Convent where the fret