Classic Poem

In San Marco, Venezia

I for whom the world is a clear stream
Of Beauty's holding, — fashioned to reflect
Her loveliness; a hollow cave perfect
In echo, that her voice meet full esteem,

Around me here are arching walls gold-decked,
Of her grey children breathing forth their praise,
I am an outcast, too strange to but raise
One least harmonious whisper of respect.

I am wild, uncouth; before the dream
Thou givest me I stand weak in amaze,
Or dare I lift one hand to serve, it lays
All waste the very mesh I hold supreme.English