A View in the Val d’Arno.

A plain all bathed in golden mist, with soft1
Blue shadows floating in the opal light ;2
The olives, laden with round purple fruit,3
Bend to the breeze their leaves so silver-white.4
A rustling line of poplars marks the course5
The winding Arno follows in the vale,6
And all the lilac hills are dashed with gold,7
And brown, and green, and rose so faint and pale.8
The belfries grey rise solemn in the midst9
Of the white hamlets smiling in the sun,10
And many a villa—could the stones but speak—11
Would tell sad tales of love, and murders done.12
While distant Florence sleeps beneath the guard13
Of Giotto’s tower, whose bells in days of old14
Called sober citizens to don their arms15
And thus their ancient liberties uphold.16