The Murmuring Fountains, Rome

Bemused, wherever you may turn,
Glitters a lavish waterfall,
Till rainbows arc from swaying fern
To towers of the Aurelian wall;

But best, oh very best of all,
The sea-green mouth and bronzen urn,
Dark cypresses, the bells that call,
Tremble, and one’s poor eardrums burn;

Now lilting, gay, now fierce and stern,
Out of the past the tales grow tall;
Your being has but one concern,
By flowing music held in thrall;

Bemused, you seek to rend the pall,
The ancient singers to discern,
As by a slab of Trajan’s hall
In cadences the waters yearn.