Page:Roden Noel - A Little Child's Monument - 1881.pdf/76

Earth's fair features, every one
Instinct with spirit of the sun,
Radiate well-married hues,
Blent with air and ocean blues.
Verily I seem to stand
In a realm of fairyland,
Or I take my dazzled station
In some intense illumination
Of a missal mediæval
Yonder on the hill's upheaval,
Where we hear the convent chime,
Wrought by monk of olden time,
Whom the cloister heard intone,
And many a sun-bleached river stone,
Or the darkling cypress cone.
Cool grey clouds of olive fill
All the foldings of the hill,
While fair dawn-empetalled peaches
Gleam athwart the bloomy reaches
Of quiet harebell-mantled mountain
Gemmed with rivulet or fountain,
Shadowy evening robes, whose hem
Shines with many a water gem:
While rich oranges all golden,
In a darkling foliage holden,
Are a foil to the pale gleaming
Of oval lemon, and the beaming
Ampler cherry trees, one snow