ANOTHER VOICE.
HE sky falls sad and sorrowful,The tempest hangs o'er Rome,
Naught save the dropping rays of light,
Lift the Campagna's gloom;
Down dropping rays of sunny light,
Like stairways from the skies,
Where thought may climb the misty steps,
And hope may strive to rise.
Like stairways from the skies,
Where thought may climb the misty steps,
And hope may strive to rise.
Grim ruins start, and dot the scene,
A lonely watch-tower glooms,
In company with withered shrubs,
Dead in a land of tombs.
A lonely watch-tower glooms,
In company with withered shrubs,
Dead in a land of tombs.
Mark the great spectral aqueduct
Tramp on like solemn fate,
A broken union—severed links
Of what was once so great.
Tramp on like solemn fate,
A broken union—severed links
Of what was once so great.
