The Poems of Emma Lazarus, Volume 1

RESTLESSNESS.*

     Would I had waked this morn where Florence smiles,
     A-bloom with beauty, a white rose full-blown,
     Yet rich in sacred dust, in storied stone,
     Precious past all the wealth of Indian isles—
     From olive-hoary Fiesole to feed
     On Brunelleschi's dome my hungry eye,
     And see against the lotus-colored sky,
     Spring the slim belfry graceful as a reed.
     To kneel upon the ground where Dante trod,
     To breathe the air of immortality
     From Angelo and Raphael—TO BE—
     Each sense new-quickened by a demi-god.
     To hear the liquid Tuscan speech at whiles,
     From citizen and peasant, to behold
     The heaven of Leonardo washed with gold—
     Would I had waked this morn where Florence smile!

     *Written before visiting Florence.