But to have lain upon the grass <br />One perfect day, one perfect hour, <br />Beholding all things mortal pass <br />Into the quiet of green grass; <br /> <br />But to have lain and loved the sun, <br />Under the shadow of the trees, <br />To have been found in unison, <br />Once only, with the blessed sun; <br /> <br />Ah! in these flaring London nights, <br />Where midnight withers into morn, <br />How quiet a rebuke it writes <br />Across the sky of London nights! <br /> <br />Upon the grass at Mantua <br />These London nights were all forgot. <br />They wake for me again: but ah, <br />The meadow-grass at Mantua!<br /><br />Arthur Symons<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-the-meadows-at-mantua/
