Welcome
and venture inwards.

From scent filled Roman gardens, I bring the rose and rue
And leaves of subtle colour, To weave a gift for you.
You'll know the reason wherefore
The sad within the sweet!
My flowers may lie as I would,
A carpet for Rome's feet.

Lo! Take my words kindly, even though there be
Some notes that unto other lyres belong,
Stray echo's from elder sons of song;
And think how from it's neighbouring native sea
The pensive shell doth borrow melody.
I would not do the lordly masters wrong
By fliching fair words from the shining throng
Whose music haunts me as the wind in the tree!
Lo! When a stranger in soft Roman glooms
Shot through with sunset treads the cedar dells
And hears the breezy ring of temple bells
Far down by white haired cataract booms
Bears hence, unwitting, the plunder of perfumes.