City where the hills recede <br />land at the horizons' end <br />what saint or poet did you breed <br />oh Enna. <br /> <br />Lo, the smiling vales descend <br />from the bird-enamored walls <br />that band so many graces in <br />oh Enna. <br /> <br />Fair and faintly green your hills <br />fall away, behind them rise <br />others fairer, fainter still <br />oh Enna. <br /> <br />O'er the chime-enchanted stair <br />a doughty brace of butterflies <br />agitates the drowsy air <br />oh Enna. <br /> <br />On your steepy mountainsides <br />light her foot and dry her tear <br />the new Persephone arrives <br />oh Enna. <br /> <br />And when the golden sun goes down <br />from hill to vale to hill ring round <br />the bells that call your faithful home <br />oh Enna. <br /> <br />Then the clouds fill up the vales <br />and cool the throat and moisten well <br />the sere recesses of the soul <br />oh Enna. <br /> <br />City where the hills recede <br />land at the horizons' end <br />what saint or poet did you breed <br />oh Enna?<br /><br />Morgan Michaels<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/enna-2/
