Thomas Gold Appleton (1812–1884)

THE SILENCE there was what most haunted me.

Long, speechless streets whose stepping-stones invite

Feet which shall never come; to left and right

Gay colonnades and courts,—beyond the glee,

Heartless, of that forgetful Pagan sea;

On roofless homes and waiting streets, the light

Lies with a pathos sorrowfuller than night.

Fancy forbids this doom of Life with Death

Wedded, and with her wand restores the Life.

The jostling throngs swarm, animate, beneath

The open shops, and all the tropic strife

Of voices, Roman, Greek, Barbarian, mix. The wreath

Indolent hangs on far Vesuvius’ crest;

And over all the town and sea, sweet rest.