Clouds rosy-tinted in the setting sun,
Depths of the azure eastern sky between,
Plains where the poplar-bordered highways run,
Patched with a hundred tints of brown and green, — Beauty of Earth, when in thy harmonies The cannon's note has ceased to be a part,
I shall return once more and bring to these The worship of an undivided heart.
Of those sweet potentialities that wait For my heart's deep desire to fecundate I shall resume the search, if Fortune grants;
And the great cities of the world shall yet Be golden frames for me in which to set New masterpieces of more rare romance.
