Poem: Holy Week At Genoa

上海龙凤shlf最新地址I wandered through Scoglietto's far retreat,

The oranges on each o'erhanging spray

Burned as bright lamps of gold to shame the day;

Some startled bird with fluttering wings and fleet

Made snow of all the blossoms; at my feet

Like silver moons the pale narcissi lay:

And the curved waves that streaked the great green bay

上海龙凤shlf最新地址Laughed i' the sun, and life seemed very sweet.

上海龙凤shlf最新地址Outside the young boy-priest passed singing clear,

上海龙凤shlf最新地址'Jesus the son of Mary has been slain,

上海龙凤shlf最新地址O come and fill His sepulchre with flowers.'

上海龙凤shlf最新地址Ah, God!  Ah, God! those dear Hellenic hours

Had drowned all memory of Thy bitter pain,

The Cross, the Crown, the Soldiers and the Spear.