上海龙凤shlf最新地址Poem: Holy Week At Genoa

I wandered through Scoglietto's far retreat,

The oranges on each o'erhanging spray

上海龙凤shlf最新地址Burned as bright lamps of gold to shame the day;

Some startled bird with fluttering wings and fleet

上海龙凤shlf最新地址Made snow of all the blossoms; at my feet

上海龙凤shlf最新地址Like silver moons the pale narcissi lay:

上海龙凤shlf最新地址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,

'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.