Here, Where The Vine And Fig Bask Hand In Hand

Here, where the vine and fig bask hand in hand, And the hot lizard lies along the wall, Blinded I shrink where cypress shadows fall, And gaze upon the far-off mountains bland: Then down the dusty track Lorenzo planned Watch the slow oxen oscillating crawl Sleek in the sultry glare, and feel withal Half alien still in a familiar land. But when from out the stone-pine slopes that rise In the clear ether, black against the blue, The cuckoo suddenly calls, I close mine eyes In visionary rapture, think of you, Hear the home-music of your Kentish skies, And dream that I am drenched with English dew.