Urbs Aeterna

Colonos hears the nightingales no more;
Vanished the shady planes of Academe;
Yet still may sages muse and poets dream
Where shrunk Ilyssus laves an arid shore;
And still whene er the moon's pale glories pour
On shattered architrave and marble beam,
Athene's fane, the perfect, the supreme,
Assumes the majesty that once it wore.

O mourn no grandeur passed, no beauty fled!
Our city is from change a thing apart,
And still has power to capture and control.
Seek not her living presence with the dead;
She is the day-star of the waking heart,
The sun that lights each visionary soul.
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