Where-through the infant Tiber drew
A thousand streams in silver band,
Filled with the murmur of the pines
That told the olives and the vines
They heard the sea on either hand.
But, kindled on its lofty cape,
A light-tower to that inland coast
O’er waves of greenwood, corn, and grape,
What object charmed us most?
“Assisi seated in the sun!