That all was isles of Greece and air of Italy.
There seemed low music swelling from afar.
Which, as it nearer came, grew lovelier;
And then smooth, iv’ry voices, such as are
Heard only from some heavenly messenger,
With harp-like pinions, warning ere we err
In words that die not, and through after time,
When evil tempts us, draw us nearer her.
And as in thought I saw the Past, sublime,
With many a sunny sky and calm Arcadian clime,