|
I have never seen Volcanoes -- But, when Travellers tell How those old -- phlegmatic mountains Usually so still -- Bear within -- appalling Ordnance, Fire, and smoke, and gun, Taking Villages for breakfast, And appalling Men -- If the stillness is Volcanic In the human face When upon a pain Titanic Features keep their place -- If at length the smouldering anguish Will not overcome -- And the palpitating Vineyard In the dust, be thrown? If some loving Antiquary, On Resumption Morn, Will not cry with joy Pompeii! To the Hills return! | 
