Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, FIESOLE, by CLINTON SCOLLARD


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FIESOLE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Say not that arno's vale is fair
Last Line: From off thy spirit-haunted hill!
Subject(s): Italy; Italians


SAY not that Arno's vale is fair,
And Florence fair and good to see,
Until from far Fiesole
You view them, bright through cloudless air!

What skies are like Italian skies?
Where do the olive and the vine
With larger wealth of fruitage shine
Than here, beneath the ravished eyes!

Love you not Arno's tawny gold?
Feel you not somehow near akin
To Florence, with her woe and sin,
And all the deeds she wrought of old?

How great her gifts! Her open heart
Has yielded much to bless mankind,
And in her bosom still we find
A precious treasure-house of art.

And thou, Fiesole, and thou,
O'er all her glory leaning down,
With thy serene monastic crown,
And morning on thine ancient brow,

Thou art her guardian, smiling sweet
Upon her, as upon a child
A mother fond has ever smiled,
Her child at play about her feet!

Keep watchful ward above her still
With prescience of the vast To-be!
Look down the years, Fiesole,
From off thy spirit-haunted hill!





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