Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867.
VI. Venice in the EveningAubrey Thomas de Vere (18141902)
A
And flush of modern pleasure, dull Decay
O’er the bright pageant breathes her shadowy gray.
As on from bridge to bridge I roam and climb,
It seems as though some wonder-working chime
(Whose spell the Vision raised and still can sway)
To some far source were ebbing fast away;
As though, by man unheard, with voice sublime
It bade the sea-born Queen of Cities follow
Her Sire into his watery realm far down:
Beneath my feet the courts sound vast and hollow;
And more than Evening’s darkness seems to frown
On sable barks that, swift yet trackless, fleet
Like dreams o’er dim lagoon and watery street.