We need not to be told thou art <br />Of Rome's own glorious race; <br />We hear her song breathe in thy voice, <br />In thy form behold her grace, <br />And her pure and classic beauty <br />In thy rare and thoughtful face. <br /> <br />That speaks her ancient honor, <br />Her proud immortal dower; <br />It tells of her sad present, <br />Yet foretells her triumph hour, — <br />Hath the grandeur of her sorrow, <br />And the glory of her power.<br /><br />Grace Greenwood<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/valentine-to-count/
