Classic Poem

ZENOBIA

The tawny sands girt high thy ruined fanes,
Bronzed with the hot sun's burning torrid gold,
And lonely are the courts, once wont to hold
The wise and brave, held in thy beauty's chains:
Where orchards bloomed, the sterile, thirsty plains,
For countless leagues in weary sameness rolled,
Sweep wide and desolate. The desert's fold
Now hides the glory of thy fair domains.
Yet thou in memory hast a holy place,
And kindly have the hard years dealt with thee,
While making havoc in thine earthly home:
In cherished dreams we see thy noble face,
Fair as the Grecian goddess of the sea,
And grand with fire that dared the power of Rome.