Classic Poem

Speak , ye stones, I entreat! Oh speak, ye palaces lofty!
 Utter a word, oh ye streets! Wilt thou not, Genius, awake?
All that thy sacred walls, eternal Rome, hold within them
 Teemeth with life; but to me , all is still silent and dead.
Oh, who will whisper unto me,—when shall I see at the casement
 That one beauteous form, which, while it scorcheth, revives?
Can I as yet not discern the road, on which I for ever
 To her and from her shall go, heeding not time as it flies?
Still do I mark the churches, palaces, ruins, and columns,
 As a wise traveller should, would he his journey improve.
Soon all this will be past; and then will there be but one temple,
 Amor's temple alone, where the Initiate may go.
Thou art indeed a world, oh Rome; and yet, were Love absent,
 Then would the world be no world, then would e'en Rome be no Rome.