With your eye-rays to search out field and height:
To see young David, leading forth his sheep,
The Christ Child on the Hill of Nazareth sleep,
To watch proud Dante climb the stranger’s stairs,
To see the ocean round Columbus leap.
And beauty absolute man’s heart has known
In those old hills where the Greek blood was sown,
They named you young Apollo in that day
And served you well, and loved your chariot-throne.
Would I had looked on Venice in her prime.