Sonnet 12

Clouds rosy-tinted in the setting sun,

Depths of the azure eastern sky between,

Plains where the poplar-bordered highways run,

Patched with a hundred tints of brown and green, —

Beauty of Earth, when in thy harmonies

The cannon's note has ceased to be a part,

I shall return once more and bring to these

The worship of an undivided heart.

Of those sweet potentialities that wait

For my heart's deep desire to fecundate

I shall resume the search, if Fortune grants;

And the great cities of the world shall yet

Be golden frames for me in which to set

New masterpieces of more rare romance.